No Stone Unturned 01: Something Stinks
by Omnitrix 12
Summary: In the aftermath of the Nighthowler Case, the ZPD is still on high alert trying to track down the remaining suspects of the Bellwether Conspiracy - and their lines of supply. Enter Judy and Nick, sent to investigate one of the most sensitive leads on the case. With a cast of new and old faces in their path, danger, mystery, and hilarity ensue - along with some possible romance.
1. One: A Knock at the Door

**Once upon a midnight dreary**

 **While I pondered weak and weary**

 **Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore;**

 **As I nodded, nearly napping**

 **Suddenly there came a tapping**

 **As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door**

 **"** **Tis some visitor," I muttered, "Rapping at my chamber door.**

 **"** **Only this, and nothing more."**

 ** _The Raven,_** **by Edgar Allan Poe**

Judy drove through the streets of the Nocturnal District, well below the surface of Zootopia's bustling metropolis. The underground district – more like so many catacombs, as it seemed to her – was lit by artificial lights as well as patches of glowing moss and fungus which leant eerie luminescence to the stone walls. She drove through great natural caverns of pale, flowing limestone, often connected by starker passages of dim sandstone or even dark granite which seemed to swallow up the light, and which lacked the beauty – such as it was – of the limestone, being artificially hewn from bedrock.

Some animals, she knew, might well have enjoyed the caves. Certainly the foxes, occasional big cats, and other night creatures driving by her seemed to like living there, as did the bats which, though they sometimes drove, more often flew by overhead. Judy, though, wasn't a cave mammal; both by instinct and upringing, she preferred either the limitless open sky or the inside of a building. The yawning ceilings that stretched into seemingly endless blackness overhead, and the winding passages which gave so many corners around which to hide, didn't suit her very well. Not for the last time, she wished she could have brought Nick along, but Nick was at the courthouse trying to clear his way to enrolling at the Police Academy; a gamble even for him, if anyone did as thorough a background check on him as she had done. Besides, Chief Bogo had been very clear that this was to be a solo operation; just a quick Q&A. He didn't really expect much to come of it, but Judy had proven herself already at following thin leads – and wriggling out of tight binds in the PR department. Things were already in a muddle at City Hall, and word was that the object of this assignment had enough connections to make things difficult for anyone on her bad side, even the ZPD.

After a number of turns this way and that, she came to a gated tunnel with a speaker built into one wall. She reached out and pushed the call button next to the speaker.

"Name, please," said a voice through the speaker. The voice was deep and had a growl in it; definitely the tone of a predator.

Judy leaned out the window to answer. "Officer Judy Hopps, ZPD."

There was a pause. "There is no invitation listed for a Judy Hopps."

Judy rolled her eyes. "Did you miss the 'Officer' and 'ZPD' parts? I'm here to talk to Olivia Poisson."

Another pause, and then the gate opened. "Drive in," growled the voice.

She did, with the distinct impression that this was not going to be a very cordial interview.

* * *

About a half-mile beyond her, in a gothic mansion built up against the wall of a large cavern, the mammal to whom she had spoken turned from an intercom and caught the shoulder of a passing raccoon. The whole place was a bustle of activity, with all manner of night creatures setting up tables, putting out food, and attending to details. Olivia D. Poisson was preparing for a party.

"Someone is coming to see Miss Poisson," the larger mammal reported. "An officer from the ZPD; Judy Hopps. Tell her."

The raccoon balked. "Sir, she's not to be disturbed. She's, well... preparing"

"I know what her schedule is." Patience wasn't one of the larger mammal's qualities. "Miss Grey will be there to take messages. Tell her, and she'll tell Miss Poisson. Now get going."

Without further questions, the raccoon darted off to heed the order.

* * *

Miss Poisson was in one of the upper rooms of her sizable mansion, getting ready for the party just two hours away, when a knock came at the door. "Miss Poisson!" called an earnest male voice.

The striped skunk retreated behind a privacy screen which hid her from sight. "Answer it," she told Lillian Grey, her head maid. The spotted skunk was young enough to be Olivia's daughter, but no one would have known it. She was mature for her eighteen years, very capable, and as close to a best friend as Olivia had; indeed, some would have said as close as anyone could be when Olivia and a paycheck were involved.

The young skunk quickly bustled to the door and opened it just enough to poke her head out. "Miss Poisson is busy," she reported unnecessarily.

The raccoon, dressed in an immaculate bus boy uniform, was breathing hard as he nodded, having run halfway across the mansion and up two or three flights of stairs. "I know, ma'am, but I was told to tell her that there's an officer here from the police to see her." Remembering the name mentioned by the butler, he added, "Miss Judy Hopps."

Lillian jerked her head back and blinked, surprised at the news. _Judy Hopps is coming here?_ she thought in disbelief. Like just about everyone in the city, she knew that name well from the news. Most police officers didn't attain celebrity status – in fact, they made all efforts to avoid it – but after the case she had solved there was little avoiding publicity.

Lillian turned back to the room. "Miss Poisson?" she called.

"I heard," came Olivia's voice from behind the screen. Calmly, she related a series of instructions. The final one was, "Escort her to my office; the one for private interviews. I'll meet her there soon."

Lillian relayed the instructions to the raccoon, who made off to see to them at once. Closing the door, the young skunk turned to see Olivia emerge from concealment, busily changing her attire.

"Help me out of this," she instructed. "This party dress is nothing for a meeting with an officer."

"Yes, Olivia." Of all the staff, only Lillian had the privilege of calling the lady of the house by her first name, though even she didn't do so in front of temporary help like busboys. As she helped with the back, she asked, "What would Judy Hopps be coming here for?"

"You should know as well as I do," Olivia answered, browsing her wardrobe and selecting a much more formal gown. "What with all that's been happening, it was only a matter of time before the ZPD sent someone knocking on the door – though I am not pleased that they chose to do it at this hour."

* * *

Judy was greeted at a wide circle in front of the mansion by a tall, canine-looking figure whose features were hard to make out, backlit as they were by the house itself. The scent, however, was unmistakable: hyena.

"Pull around to this side," the same voice that had greeted her on the intercom instructed as the hyena pointed one finger, and one arm, straight out like a signpost. "I will take you to see Miss Poisson."

Judy did as she was advised, taking stock of the place as she did. It looked as though it were being set up for a party. The house was whiter than the limestone around it, and of an elaborate style resembling a palace. The pallid walls, tiled with marble, struck an odd contrast to the gothic architecture. She did a quick once-over of the gargoyles on the roof, with the eerie feeling that some of them were more than statues.

 _Get ahold of yourself, Judy,_ she thought. She didn't know it, but many high-end places in the Nocturnal District had cameras hidden in statues – and rumor had it that Miss Poisson also sometimes hired bats to disguise themselves and keep watch.

Oblivious to all of that, Judy followed the figure's instructions. Once she got around to the side of the mansion where the lighting wasn't such an issue, she could see the figure better. Contrary to the usual rough-and-ready look, this hyena's hair was combed back and slick with gel – no doubt one of the many Pwasson's Passion varieties, if the hint of Nighthowler hanging about him was any clue. His tailored suit bulged, making no effort to disguise the muscles beneath, and a well-outlined jaw boasted the species' formidable biting strength. Of course, hyenas didn't go around biting anyone much these days - and not many mammals knew it, but female hyenas actually tended to be stronger than males - but Judy was still well aware that this guy could easily, and literally, crush her skull with his hands tied behind his back if he wanted to. She made a mental note to keep her taser ready, just in case.

The hyena, either unaware of or unimpressed by her mental preparation, raised a hand and flicked his index finger, beckoning her with the least expended energy he could manage. "This way," he told her. "Miss Poisson is busy, but she's taking the time to meet with you."

"Much appreciated," Judy replied brightly, putting on a facade of energy and eagerness. Normally she had no problem being both, but both building and butler were putting her ill at ease, and her expectations for the meeting ahead made it harder than usual to act in a cordial manner.

The hyena led Judy up several flights of stairs to a spacious, well-lit office. The furnishings were impeccable: wood paneled walls hung with paintings and tapestries, an antique desk in spotless condition, a fire burning in a fireplace (no small mark of status, when chimneys in that district had to be carved upward through bedrock to the surface), and a loveseat facing a sizeable armchair, both upholstered in velvet. Several potted plants adorned the room; a few small trees, but mostly flowerpots full of Night Howlers. On the loveseat, with the air of a queen on her throne, was Olivia Poisson.

The skunk wore a dress resembling a Victorian-era evening gown; a pleated skirt reaching down to the floor, long sleeves, and a collar which covered most of her neck. The fabric, which was of a pine green shade, was embroidered with patterns of vines and flowers, and a simple gold necklace set with diamonds hung around the skunk's slender neck. Yet it was not how she was dressed that caught Judy's attention. Rather, it was her expression. The look on the skunk's face reminded her of the hyena who was at that moment leaving; not overtly hostile, but none the less commanding – if not demanding – respect. Next to the love seat and a little behind it stood another skunk, this one of the spotted species and wearing a much less elaborate green dress with no jewels. Her expression was passive, though the angle of her shoulders suggested just a hint of apprehension as if she wished this whole situation weren't happening.

Olivia gestured to the armchair. "Please, have a seat." Her voice, though soft and low, was as commanding as her expression, and had a touch of French accent to it – though the impression it generated smacked more of Transylvania. Judy had a sneaking suspicion that Olivia was trying to hypnotize her.

Shaking off her paranoia, the rabbit walked to the chair and jumped into it, taking care not to scratch or track on the velvet. Although she didn't think a civilian – even one of Olivia's status – would take issue with a law officer over a chair, she suspected that the article of furniture cost more than she made in a month.

"Do excuse the size," Olivia added, hinting that she seldom conducted such interviews with individuals the size of a footstool. Judy found this somewhat ironic, since Olivia herself wasn't much taller than she was – tall by skunk standards, maybe, but no bigger than, say, Nick. The chair in which Judy herself sat gave the impression that the last mammal to interview in this office was more of the tiger size. "If I'd had more notice I could have prepared better. Would you care for something to drink?"

"No thanks, I'm fine."

"Very well." Olivia put her hands together, her fingertips raised like a steeple. "Now, I think I know why you have come," she said, opening the discussion. "I can only assume this is something about your recent case, Miss Hopps?"

Judy cleared her throat. "Yes, I came by to ask you a few questions – and by the way, I prefer Officer Hopps."

Olivia looked as if she were thinking about calling Judy 'Miss Hopps' again just to irritate her, but she didn't put it into words. "So be it," she agreed, "although I think I know the nature of your questions already. Let me save you some time. Yes, my company makes considerable use of Night Howler extract as a key ingredient in many hygienic products. Yes, I know what the extract is capable of in high dosages... and in the hands of fools." she added as an afterthought. "However, neither my company nor its products are in any way related to the recent drugging scheme. You wasted your time coming here."

If there was one thing Judy didn't like, it was others acting like they could just read her mind. The fact that Miss Poisson had been exactly right didn't make it the least bit better. Still, she kept her cool. "I'm just doing my job. If the Night Howlers aren't effecting anyone, then what do you use them for?"

"I didn't say that they did not effect anyone," Olivia answered calmly, as if speaking to a child. "I merely said that they were not causing animals to go savage." An odd look crossed her face. "At least, not in the way of which you are thinking," she added with what might have been a note of humor. "The concentration is far too weak for that, and I have gone to great lengths to keep it that way."

"So what do they do?" Judy wanted to know. "What do you mean, 'not the way I'm thinking of?"

Olivia reached out and picked up a pot of the flowers on a table next to the loveseat. She held them up and studied them, turning the pot this way and that. "My father, the founder of Pwasson's Passions, was an expert in the study of these plants. He knew their more dangerous properties, of course. In fact, he even helped to create an enhanced version of the then-quite-lacking antidote for those under their effects." She paused, as if to let Judy consider that this meant her father was to be thanked for the recovery of those same creatures who had recently been drugged. "He also realized, however, that with the proper management, the flowers' extract could also be used for aromas, confidence, and even romantic purposes."

"You mean you _are_ drugging your customers?" asked Judy, incredulous that the skunk would so quickly admit that. It couldn't be that easy.

"No more so than someone who sells coffee," Olivia reasoned. "The effects of Night Howlers are a key selling point of Pwasson's Passion. It has been so from the start, and the essence is carefully controlled to ensure no negative effects."

Judy scratched out a few notes in her notebook. "What about an overdose?" she asked.

Olivia shrugged. "Water is deadly if you overdose," she reasoned, "and anyway, with how weakened the essence is, first of all someone would have to _drink_ our products to get an overdose of Night Howler. Secondly, even in the case of our new line of mouth rinses – which, by the way, have been substantially delayed due to the fiasco – it is so weak that the other ingredients combined would poison someone long before they got enough of the floral extract into them to have any side effects. In other words, no one could go savage from a Pwasson's Passion product if their life depended on it."

"And your testing is, I assume, up to scratch?"

"Ask any state inspector," Olivia replied. "I'm sure they've all come through. Quality has been a hallmark of this business from the beginning. Father and Mother personally tested many of Father's formulae before selling them to the public, and they are still well and active – as are the standards they established."

"Well, it's nice to know you take the public's safety so seriously," Judy answered insincerely. "All the same, I'd like to do a little checking up. I have to, you know, for my report. Could you provide me with a list of your suppliers; intake, output...?"

Miss Poisson folded her arms. "Do you have a warrant?"

Judy bit the inside of her cheek. "Not really. I could get one, but it would probably go a lot better for you if you just cooperated."

The skunk stared coolly at her for a long moment, clearly unimpressed by 'it would probably go a lot better for you.' "If you must know," she said at last, "barring unforeseen demand, Pwasson's Passion produces its own Night Howlers to ensure the best quality and to eliminate the hassle which comes from inter-company negotiations. We own several farms for that very purpose on the outskirts of Zootopia."

Seeing that the skunk was stonewalling, Judy decided to try a slightly more 'good cop' approach. "And is it possible that someone might have made off with some of your crops?"

"Unlikely. Several of the farms are located by residential areas, and no one on earth knows better than I how powerful the flowers can be – except perhaps the unfortunate victims of the recent poisoning." This last she added as an afterthought, her tone conveying neither sympathy nor guilt. "Let me assure you, the farms have the _best_ security money can buy."

Again, her tone was ambiguous. Judy wasn't sure if Miss Poisson was saying that no one would be foolish enough to try to break into the farms, or daring Judy to disprove that. "I see. Well just in case, I'd like copies of the records from your farms – purchasing, yields, sales – for the past couple of months, and a look around them if you don't mind."

The half-closed eyes looking back at her promised nothing – except more blockading. "I will provide you with the papers as a courtesy," she answered calmly. "If you wish to enter the farms, however, or tour any of my facilities, I'll expect your ticket to have a judge's signature."

 _This one's a tough nut to crack,_ thought Judy. _She's definitely hiding something._ "Thank you," she answered, doing her best to look less bothered than she was. "Your help is appreciated."

Olivia clearly didn't believe that for a second. Taking the silence from the skunk as a cue that their conversation was done, Judy got up to leave.

"Officer," Olivia called to her back, "I would like to ask you something."

"What's that?" Judy wanted to know, half-turning.

Olivia regarded her as calmly as ever. "I am not an expert on the police department," she admitted, "but something tells me they don't hire many rabbits. I assume you worked hard to earn your position, and that you were not just hired to fill the Mammal Inclusion Initiative's quotas."

Judy bristled. "For your information, I was valedictorian of my class. Yes, I worked hard."

"I see. Then I can only assume you faced a great deal of species stigma, much as my father did. Perhaps, then, you will understand that I too have worked hard to continue the company he started, and to continue convincing the simpletons of the world that being a skunk does not limit one's options in life. Do you understand my purpose?"

The fact that Olivia had guessed correctly about her background and the trouble she'd gone to to get where she was did little to settle Judy's anger. "Yes, I see what you're getting at."

Olivia put a paw to her chin. "Then I am sure you will also understand that I am willing to go just as far to preserve my father's dreams as you have gone, and as far as you will ever go, to accomplish yours."

Judy's nose twitched. "Yes," she answered. "I do understand." She'd gotten the message, alright. Miss Poisson wasn't going to pull any punches if her corporation was on the line.

 _Well,_ she thought, _I never did so well at pulling punches either._ Then she remembered something else. "One other thing," she said, turning back toward Olivia with a slight edge in her voice. She didn't like to throw her weight around, but she felt the need to subtly remind Miss Poisson who was wearing the badge here. "What can you tell me about Doug Ramses?"

Olivia jerked as if she had stuck her finger on something sharp, and a brief look crossed her face; too brief to interpret if it had not been so intense. It was a look of absolute rage.

"Doug Ramses, did you say?" she asked, regaining her composure. Though her face was once more calm, her voice carried an undertone which seemed to ask, 'Why do you speak of him as though he's still alive?'

"That's right," Judy affirmed, sensing that she was on the trail of a strong lead.

Olivia turned to her assistant. "Lillian, if you would?"

The younger skunk dipped at the waist. "Of course." She left the room swiftly, but without a sense of hurry – as if she were just naturally accustomed to moving quickly.

Miss Poisson looked back at Judy, her eyes looking as though they were barely holding back a raging inferno. "Ramses once worked for my father," she explained. "Lillian is bringing you his file now, but to be brief, he was one of our leading chemists, second only to my father and myself. He was fired, and had the law allowed it we would have done much more."

"Why?" Judy leaned forward, ears perked. "What did he do?"

Medusa herself would have withered at the sight of the skunk's scowl. "It is all in his file – including much which may be news to you at the ZPD, for reasons also detailed in the file."

"Sounds like a pretty thorough file," Judy remarked.

Olivia snorted and sat back, folding her arms. "I don't forget grievances such as he committed easily," she answered. "Nor do I forget favors – and I would consider it a personal one if, should you find Ramses, you would make his arrest as... unpleasant as possible."

Judy shook her head. "I don't modify arrest procedures," she replied. Then she thought back to the two times she had snagged Duke Weaselton. "Well, no more than I have to. I just do my job and bring 'em in."

"A pity," Olivia uttered under her breath. Then she turned her head as the door opened, and received the file from Lillian. She rose to her feet, crossed the room, and handed the folder to Judy. "In any case," she said, "this will get you started. I'll mail you the rest of what you've been promised as soon as possible." Glancing at the clock, she added, "Now if you have no _objections,_ I have something to prepare for – and I am already behind schedule."

Judy accepted the file. "Thank you," she replied with as much sincerity as she could manage. With that, she left.

 _Her products may eliminate odors,_ she thought to herself, _but something here definitely stinks._

* * *

A short time later, back in Olivia's dressing room, the heiress voiced her thoughts to Lillian.

"If Judith Hopps wants to chase after Ramses, I can live with that. All the better if she brings him to justice – or as near as she dares. Still, I can't have interference with the family business, so I'll have to make certain she is satisfied with the information she gets."

Lillian said nothing, knowing that whatever she thought, this was a business matter to Olivia – and Olivia always won in the end when it came to business.

"Now then," said Olivia, studying herself in a mirror and making a few adjustments to her jewelry, "let's get back to the party. Enough unpleasantness for one evening, yes?"

This time, Lillian heartily agreed.

 **Okay, I'll keep the notes quick here. :) My hearty thanks to all readers, particularly AngloFalcon for his helpful input. I had a great time working on the Nocturnal District and the OCs, and it's a pleasure to know you've all enjoyed them so much. So, any thoughts on what Olivia might be up to?**

 **I should explain one or two other things, just to avoid confusion. This story is set in the aftermath of the movie's main events. The ZPD, as you can see in this chapter, is trying to tie up loose ends, and Nick... well, you can guess some of it, I'm sure, but you'd better count on surprises too.**

 **Oh, and for anyone wondering, "Poisson" is French, and is actually pronounced "PWASS-on," as hinted when the company's name is being used instead of that of the family. If you noticed its similarity to "Poison," however... well, I won't argue.**

 **If you like this story, I have a couple of others you might enjoy: "Balto's Treasure Island" and "What's Love Anyway?", both featuring anthro versions of characters from the Balto film trilogy (I've been asked if the latter is set in the Zootopia universe, and while it's not I could see the potential in doing a crossover). I would also recommend "White Legend," which details the relationship of Balto's parents. I also have a string of Zootopia stories in mind, so keep reading!**

 **Last of all, by all means read, follow, and review! Your feedback is always welcome!**


	2. Two: Informant of Interest

**Shall we their fond pageant see?**

 **Lord, what fools these mortals be!**

 **Robin,** _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ **by William Shakespeare**

Judy was only too glad to get back above ground, and she took a deep breath when she was at last back in the daylight. The clear sky and bright sun made a welcome change from the conditions down below. Even the air around her felt lighter and cleaner, and she rolled down the window to enjoy it. Well, she had a promise of the farms' records – on her carrot pen as well, if it came to that – and a file in hand on one of the main suspects. That was a start, and... she checked the clock. _Even better,_ she thought, _I'll make it to pick up Nick with time to spare._ By itself, that was enough to put a smile on her face. Today she and Nick were due to meet with Chief Bogo about getting him started on the road to being a cop. _Who knows?_ she thought to herself as she merged onto one of the highways, _h_ _e might even know something about Poisson._

Finding Nick proved to be a challenge. The area around the courthouse, which was situated on the edge of Meadowlands, was a mess of mammals of every size and species. Many of them waved to her, recognizing her as the town hero. As much as all that attention bugged her at times, she had to admit it made for a nice change from the last time she'd been there. There had been several long lines of those who had been on the receiving end of her stint as meter maid. Smiling at the change, Judy reflected that it really had been best that those days were short-lived – for everyone's sake.

Then she spotted him sitting on a bench, snacking on a pawpsicle. He didn't seem to notice her as she pulled into the nearest parking space and honked. "Hey Junior Detective!" she called, rolling down the window on his side.

"Hey, Carrots," he replied calmly, finishing off the last of the pawpsicle.

Judy raised an eyebrow. "Really, Nick? On the way to meet Bogo?"

"What? I bought it – and yes, this one was legit," he added as he climbed in. At her insistence, he had abandoned his striped tie and Pawaiian shirt for a navy blue tie and a white shirt – generic enough to avoid being pretentious, but professional enough to subtly say, 'Hire me.'

Judy made for the highway, and Nick discreetly slipped the pawpsicle stick into his pocket after sucking off the last of the juice.

"You're not going to sell that off at a rodent construction site, are you?" asked Judy.

Nick tried not to let his reaction show. _She_ is _good_ , he thought. "For your information, I make pencil cups out of these in my free time," he told her.

She glanced briefly at him with one raised eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

He rolled his eyes and pulled out the stick, preparing to throw it out the window.

"Littering's a $500 fine," she reminded him quickly.

He put it away again. "Fine," he said grumpily. "I'll keep it as a memento of how annoying you are."

"Ah, you know you love every minute of it," she quipped right back. Then, getting serious, she added, "So, you feeling ready for a fresh start?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," he answered. Then, lest she ask how his time at the courthouse went, he asked, "So what was it you were doing again?"

"Investigating leads on the missing suspects from the Bellwether Conspiracy," she answered. "Got a promising one on Doug Ramses. You remember - the one in the gas mask?"

"How could I forget?" asked Nick. That five minutes had been the most almost-literally-heart-stopping period of his pretty crazy life.

"That reminds me," Judy went on, "you said you know everyone, right?"

He rubbed his knuckles on his shirt. "Everyone," he replied cooly.

"Including, say, Olivia D. Poisson?"

"Olivia Poisson..." he muttered, almost as if he were trying the name in his mouth like a wine expert studying a flavor. Then he stopped, and his green eyes popped. "Wait, as in Pwasson's Passion? That Olivia Poisson?"

Judy nodded, and Nick let out a low whistle. "Wow, you aren't leaving any stone unturned, are you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, mostly that she's one of the few mammals I _don't_ know. They say she throws good parties, but even I couldn't charm my way into one."

Judy's expression fell.

"I mean," Nick went on, "I know a few rumors about her – like, say, that a reporter was involved in an 'accident' when he tried to do an expose on her, or that she buys controlling interests in companies around the country to keep a lid on competition... you know, things like that."

"Anything substantial?"

He shrugged. "'Fraid not, Carrots."

"No, it's fine," she said half-heartedly. "Everyone's got limits."

Nick wished he could have helped more – but at least he'd kept the topic off of-

"So, how did things go at the courthouse?"

 _Darn it, she's good,_ he thought. The truth was, his lawyer friend had been less than optimistic, but for Judy's sake he gave the cheerful version. "Well, I talked to a few friends, pulled a few strings, and..." he trailed off.

"And?" she pressed.

It was time to drop the other shoe. "And it looks like I can't get out of a charge of tax evasion unless a state judge orders my records sealed or expunged."

Judy winced. "That's not easy, is it?"

"No – but it's not impossible. And since I happened to help save the city from going to you-know-where in a pawbasket, there's hope."

"Then you're in?"

"In the legalese version..." he switched tones of voice to an exaggerated impression of a stuffy college professor with a truly atrocious British accent. "It requires a formal recommendation to the state judge that said change or sealing of record be made, to be submitted by a local official of bladitty bladitty blah." Grinning, he added, "In English, I need an official to put in a good word for me with the judge."

Judy smiled. "Well, I just happen to know an official who'd be willing to do that."

Nick's smile dropped. "Uh, I kind of asked about that. Turns out you wouldn't cut it." He neglected to add that, thanks to the legal uproar of their recent escapade, very few of the officials with the clout to recommend him were in good enough standing at the moment - and fewer still would be willing to do it, especially without more of an explanation than he wanted to risk giving. He hadn't made it in the con-artist business that long by taking foolish chances, and he didn't expect to get out of it that way either.

"Oh."

He shrugged. "Well, like you said, everyone's got limits."

Their conversation was halted by a call over the radio. "Dispatch: we have complaints of an erratic driver on Route 9 southbound, just past Baobab. Over."

Judy picked up the radio. "Dispatch, this is Car 31. We're en route. Over."

"I thought we had an appointment with Chief Hornhead," Nick countered as Clawhauser's voice confirmed what Judy had just said.

Judy shrugged as she returned the radio to its hook. "It's on our way, and this shouldn't take long."

Nick shrugged right back and popped in some earbuds.

Judy was right; it was only a matter of minutes before the car came into sight, weaving across the yellow lines. The haphazard driving was made all the more visible by the way surrounding cars were backing away from it. Judy reached for a switch and flicked on the flashers, signaling the swerving driver to pull over. After at least two minutes of unchanged erratic zig-zagging, the driver noticed and quickly pulled to the side.

Parking behind the suspected car, Judy radioed in the situation as per protocol before she hopped out and walked up to the car. Once she got there, however, she discovered a problem: she couldn't reach the window. There was only a gap of a few inches between her ears and the bottom edge of the window, but it was enough to hide her from view – and if she backed out far enough to fix that, she'd be standing in the lane.

 _I seriously need to look into stilts,_ she thought, debating between the equal and opposite indignities of jumping up and down while she questioned the driver or simply knocking on the car door.

The driver saved her the choice by opening a window and looking out, obviously wondering where the cop who had pulled her over went. To Judy's surprise, it was a vixen with fur a few shades lighter than Nick's, and some very confused blue eyes that stared back at the cruiser.

"Down here," the rabbit called.

The vixen whipped her head downward so quickly that she almost whacked her chin on the door. "Huh?!"

Judy folded her arms and tapped her foot, trying to look commanding in spite of her stature. "Are you aware that you were all over the road, ma'am?"

"Oh! Um..." the vixen looked as though she were still stuck on the part where a rabbit pulled her over. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I was singing along with some music, and I kind of..."

"Mm-hm," Judy nodded, holding up a paw. "License, please?"

Nick pulled out his earbuds as Judy slipped back into the car to check the license. "What's going on?" he asked.

Judy shrugged. "Distracted driving by the look of it. She was all over the road, but I didn't smell anything on her breath."

As Judy did her work with the license and a tablet mounted on the dashboard, Nick noticed the vixen's picture on the license. More curious than anything else, he looked ahead and craned his neck towards the car itself. It was hard to see, but he'd had enough experience picking out details and body language - both key to his past lifestyle - to know that she was agitated. Judy was still staring at the screen and apparently annoyed with the slow signal, so on a whim he thought he'd get out and try to calm the lady down a bit.

Finally the tablet finished its search, and Judy studied the results. "Hm. Nothing major on her record..."

She turned to Nick, only to find him nowhere in sight. "Nick where did-?" Then she spotted him and smacked herself in the face. He was standing by the vixen's car, leaning one elbow on it in a very casual manner and chatting with the occupant.

Judy thought about reading him the riot act, then decided to try a more subtle approach. She walked up behind Nick, who was in the midst of asking if the vixen – Judy had noted her name was Taelia from the license – was having car trouble,

"Okay, _Junior Detective_ ," she chided loudly and clearly, "I'll take it from here."

Nick was plainly horrified as Taelia slowly asked, "Junior Detective?"

"Yes," Judy affirmed, stepping around Nick and nudging him with her hip. "Back to the car. I'll take it from here."

The look on his face was priceless. She knew she'd pay for it later, but for the moment she felt it was worth any revenge he might come up with. Besides, he _had_ interrupted her traffic stop.

Nick was still annoyed with her when she got back to the cruiser. "Did you _have_ to call me that in front... I mean, in public?" he complained.

She reached out and pinched his cheek playfully. "Oh, but you look so _cute_ when you blush."

He pushed her paw away. "Ve-ry funny," he complained. "It's not fair to call me that if I'm not allowed to use that word about you."

Judy had to admit he had a point there. "Well, you'll be happy to know I let her off with a warning and the quickest test I could think of just for you, _Junior Detective."_

Nick was groaning inside, but didn't feel like giving her the added satisfaction of hearing him do it out loud. "You know this is going to bite me on the off chance I bump into her later, right?"

She shrugged. "Well, then I guess getting you her phone number was a waste."

"That," Nick said pointedly, "is not very funny."

Judy just hummed cheerfully to herself.

"Uh, Carrots," Nick ventured, "you _were_ joking, right?"

In response, the rabbit jerked her head as if she had been startled. "Oh, clumsy me!" she said in an exaggerated tone. "I left the tablet unlocked with all her information."

There was no time for Nick to think or do anything except feel a sense of 'Shoot!' as Judy reached out and pushed a button on the device, closing the screen.

"Okay," he complained, "that was just mean."

* * *

Nick would have let the matter go, but just before they reached the station a love song came on the radio - which, naturally, meant that Judy couldn't resist another round of teasing. So, instead, they arrived arguing at the front desk.

"What's going on?" asked Clawhauser, pausing in the middle of a box of doughnuts.

Judy smirked as Nick gave her a 'Don't you say a word' look. "Oh, just having a little fun with Junior here about his new girlfriend."

Nick dragged a paw down the center of his face. "She is not my girlfriend, and would you stop calling me Junior?"

The cheetah's expression fell. "Nick and a girl?"

"A vixen I pulled over," Judy went on relentlessly. Then, out the side of her mouth in a fake-discreet tone, she added, "Not a bad find for a guy like him, either."

Before Nick could express his indignation at the 'guy like him' part, Clawhauser's face dropped. "Aw, there goes the bet with Bogo," moaned the cheetah.

"What bet?" Judy and Nick chorused.

"Well, I bet Bogo that you two would end up dating. He didn't believe it. 'Officer Hopps is trying to get that fox instated as an officer,' he said. 'Wouldn't be so unprofessional' he said. Oh, and something about a policy, maybe."

Judy and Nick both stared at one another. "Well," Nick remarked, speaking for both of them, "that's... just too bad."

"Okay, seriously?" asked Judy as they continued toward Bogo's office. "Is that what everyone thinks?"

"Well don't sound so insulted," Nick countered, folding his arms and putting an edge in his voice.

Judy instantly repented of her tone. "Sorry. I just..." she paused. "I don't know. Does everyone think because we hang out, we're automatically a couple or something? We've hardly even known each other that long."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Well, you just told Clawhauser that Taelia was my girlfriend, and I talked to her _once._ So how is it unfair for people to make assumptions because a handsome fox is hanging around with a c-"

Judy's paw shot out and wrapped around Nick's muzzle. "Don't say it. We're even."

"Yuh th moff," he mumbled before she let go. With his mouth free, he added, "And I was going to say 'cop.'"

Judy's frown diminished by a tiny fraction, so Nick continued. "Besides, Bogo doesn't think we're a couple – he even said _you_ were too professional for that."

"That's true." This brightened Judy's mood considerably. A compliment from Chief Bogo was like a shooting star – rare, and likely to be missed if you took the time to blink. "Maybe he thinks making us partners would work out after all."

Not two minutes later, Bogo lowered a folder to his desk. "Sorry, but I don't think it would work out."

"What?" cried Judy. "But Chief, he helped me solve the biggest case this city's seen in at _least_ ten years."

"Fifty, actually," acknowledged the water buffalo, adjusting his reading glasses. The general austerity of the office seemed to amplify his own grim tone, and what sunlight came through the closed blinds backlit his already considerable frame, reminding Judy of the hyena from Miss Poisson's residence. "However, I ran a background check on Mr. Wilde here..."

Nick's already bothered expression fell into one of sprouting despair.

"And I turned up a few... suspicious things in his financial history." He tapped a stack of papers in one hand meaningfully. "It's nothing concrete, but this was only a preliminary check. If there _is_ anything of interest, the full background check is sure to turn it up – and you know the academy checks potential recruits very thoroughly."

Judy knew that, but Bogo picking up on it was something she'd hoped to avoid. Fortunately, she had a loophole. "True," she admitted, "but if he works that out with a judge, he can still get in."

Bogo adjusted his glasses again. "True, but to get that through he'll need someone high up to vouch for him. City Hall is in a muddle, and the only other official who can recommend him for an override at the moment..." he smiled meaningfully, "...is me."

Now Nick looked positively ill.

"Right now, I'm doing you a favor just not bringing out the handcuffs," Bogo went on, looking squarely at the fox. Technically that was a bluff, unless he'd understated the amount of evidence he had on Nick, but the point was clear. "If I'm going to recommend you for this line of work, though, it's going to take a little more than that."

"More than helping save the city?" asked Judy incredulously. "What's he supposed to do, stop an asteroid?"

Bogo regarded her with a stony gaze. "I'm sure you'll think of something. Now, Officer Hopps, I think you have a case to get back to."

Judy huffed. "Fine. _We_ have a case to get back to."

Nick was quick to follow on Judy's heels out the door, lest Bogo decide to change his tone in for an even worse one.

Bogo was only left alone for a minute before Judy poked her head back in.

"By the way," she added crossly, "you might as well know you won the bet with Ben."

This news pleased Bogo just a little. "Well, maybe after a few days without doughnuts he'll be able to catch someone."

Judy winced. _Clawhauser bet his doughnut supply that Nick and I were a couple?_ she thought. She briefly considered arranging a date with the fox just to spare the chubby cheetah, but realized that if word got back to Bogo – which would kind of be the point – it would add a whole new layer of suspicion to his already dim view of vouching for Nick.

 _Sorry, Ben,_ she thought to herself. _It's for everyone's good..._ she hated to think the next part, but it was right there. _...including yours, I guess._

* * *

Since Nick wasn't a recognized member of the ZPD, regulations hindered Judy from using the office areas to go over notes with him. Instead, she chose one of the interviewing rooms: quiet little isolated rooms, loosely similar to the ones for grilling suspects in that they were soundproof and were monitored on closed-circuit television. The presence of potted plants and windows, and the lack of a two-way mirror, helped to make them feel more pleasant – which was kind of the idea. The interview rooms were generally used for private talks with witnesses, and occasionally in efforts to coax more cooperative suspects into coming forward.

"Okay," said Judy, climbing into a chair at the desk in the middle of the room. She opened the folder, skimmed its contents briefly, and then divided the stack through the middle like a card player cutting the deck. "You look through those, and I'll check these out. Let me know if you find anything interesting."

It didn't take long for either of them to find something worth that label. Judy soon discovered that Doug Ramses had indeed been a brilliant chemist, and not too bad with machines either. He'd fine-tuned a good many of the machines and methods used to concentrate the extract; sometimes so much that there were notes on his designs like, "Rejected. Danger level too high."

"Wait, they were _concentrating_ the stuff?" asked Nick, pricking his ears when Judy mentioned this. "I thought you said it was carefully diluted."

"That was Olivia's story," Judy answered doubtfully. It wasn't a solid case for her either, though. Even if the stuff was diluted in the finished product, it would make sense for them to concentrate it for storage and perhaps other stages in the process; juice companies often did the same thing. Still, it was clear enough at least that _Pwasson's Passion_ factories – and perhaps other facilities – did have places where they stored heavy concentrations of night howler serum. It also confirmed that working for them had taught Ramses much about how to handle the flowers and their derivatives; perhaps even how to grow them so successfully in a subway tunnel, of all places.

Judy, in turn, was pulled from her study when Nick let out a low whistle. "Yikes. No wonder she hated the guy."

Judy looked up. Nick's eyes were wide as he stared at his own collection of info. "What is it?" she asked.

He glanced up at her. "You don't want to know."

"Tell me."

He paused for a minute. "Remember your reaction to the Mystic Spring Oasis?"

Judy cringed. "Mind bleach, please." Then, more skeptically, she added, "Is there really something like that in there?"

"Only reports," he admitted, "but suffice it to say Ramses used his opportunities working for the family to get some… compromising material."

Judy's reply came slowly and reluctantly as, for the first time, she actually missed her days as a meter maid. True, real life was messy. She knew that. Still, 'messy' was one thing. 'I need a shower in the worst possible way' was another story. "So, what kind of material are we talking about?"

"Nothing illegal – at least not for the Poiss…" he trailed off, studying something else. "Well, actually there is something here on the Poissons that would interest the ZPD," he added, handing her a page

Judy surveyed the paper, and it didn't take long for the story to unfold. During his time as a chemist for Arthur Poisson (Olivia's father), Doug had managed to gain a great deal of the skunk's respect and trust. Then Arthur found out that Doug was stealing company secrets and threatened to have him arrested. The sheep, however, had an ace up his wool; during his time in the company, he had used his position to obtain some… well, as Nick had said, some compromising photos of the Poisson family. No actual photos were in the file, but the written information gave Judy reason to be glad for that lapse in Olivia's otherwise thorough record-keeping. Worse, Ramses had had them long enough that there was no telling how many copies he might have, and thus no guarantee of tracking down and destroying them all. Faced with the threat of his family being disgraced and his company losing its edge, Arthur had no choice but to let Doug Ramses off the hook.

Just as Judy was starting to wonder what Nick had meant, she got to the next part. Olivia's brother, Guseppe, learning that the files were stored digitally, had broken into Ramses's apartment with one of the company's top tech support consultants hoping to hack his computer and figure out how serious the problem was. They were caught in the act, and Ramses threatened to have the young skunk arrested. With the two sides now in what amounted to a case of mutually assured destruction, Doug apparently decided he had all he needed and left the company soon after.

"Well," Judy remarked, "that explains why Olivia hated the guy so much."

"Yeah, but she just ratted out her own brother," Nick pointed out.

"Not really," Judy admitted, prodding the paper with a finger. "The statute of limitations on what Guseppe did is expired, so technically the police have nothing on him."

Nick exhaled. "Sly skunk," he conceded.

Unfortunately, the dossier contained no current information to help them track down Ramses as far as Judy could see; just more to add to his charges when they caught up to him. Fortunately – or at least Miss Poisson would no doubt think so – things like corporate espionage and blackmail carried longer shelf lives than attempted burglary.

"Well, you can still chase down the techie for attempted hacking," Nick pointed out when Judy mentioned this.

Judy shook her head. "We've got bigger fish to fry." She neglected to add that, after working with Nick despite his history, she'd feel a little divided chasing down someone who broke the law only to help someone the law wouldn't.

Nick shrugged. "I guess this explains what you said about Olivia Poisson's grudge against Doug," he noted.

"If it's all true," she answered. She didn't want to trust Olivia too far. The skunk gave off too strong a case of bad vibes to be discarded so quickly as a suspect. She'd willingly implicated her own brother, albeit of an expired charge. If she and Ramses had been in cahoots, it would be no surprise for her to throw him to the sharks to save herself.

"Aren't you supposed to treat everyone as innocent until proven guilty?" asked Nick when Judy voiced this thought.

"Technically that's how the courts are supposed to work," she answered, letting her gut do the talking. The truth was, her mind knew Nick had a point.

 **Thanks again for reading, and thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous chapters. Sorry the scenery here didn't really lend itself to the same kinds of scene-setting descriptions as before, but I do intend to work on that more where applicable.**

 **I meant to respond to Kyla's review of Chapter 1 (since I couldn't PM her a reply); thanks for the vote of confidence. As it happens I am working on several as-yet-unpublished children's books, and it's good to know the range of ages looking at this story, as that will help me frame the content better (don't worry, older readers; that won't make it boring or too watered down, I promise).**

 **Also, Readefever: yep, the night howlers are back (I know a lot of people capitalize that; I don't because one doesn't capitalize 'rose' or 'daffodil'). It seems like they were used for more legitimate purposes before Bellwether weaponized them, so I thought those other uses might as well be explored a bit. I'll be working on that too as the story progresses (wonder if a push to outlaw nighthowlers should come into play?).**

 **I decided to make this chapter longer, since Roboboogie noted that chapter one didn't grab the reader that well. Let me know if the longer chapters help.**

 **UPDATE: Since a lot of people have asked, Taelia's car is so big because, at the time, it was easier for her to get a used car in that size and have it modified, like Judy's cruiser, than to get something her own size. It would also be more visible to drivers of larger vehicles.**

 **By the way, my thanks to everyone who explained how a two-way mirror works. For those who don't know, the glass is highly reflective in both directions - but if the light is brighter on one side, that side gets a mirror-like reflection of glare back, kind of like if you use your computer with the screen dimmed and the sun behind you. The other side's glare, meanwhile, is blocked out by the light coming through - like if you close the blinds and brighten your screen. Consequently, which side is the mirrored side can be easily changed by adjusting the lighting - hence "two way mirror."**

 **Keep those reviews coming, folks!**


	3. Three: A Question of Loyalties

This chapter proofread by AngloFalcon. Thanks a million!

" **Suspicion often creates what it suspects."**

 **C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters**

Judy faxed the highlights of Ramses' file to the city court, hoping to get a warrant on Olivia's factories and farms.

"Ah, the glamorous life of a cop," Nick quipped when she returned to the meeting room. He was leaning back in his chair with his arms folded behind his head and his ears at a lazy half-cocked sort of angle. "Traffic stops, paperwork..."

Judy huffed, dropping her ears back. "Nick, let's take this seriously, okay? Remember, this case could make or break your chances with the ZPD – and you already have a history that's got you at odds with Bogo."

"Funny you should mention that," he replied, tilting forward until his weight rested on his arms, which he crossed casually on the table. "You missed something; something big."

"What?" Judy looked around, pricking her ears up alertly as she tried to figure out what he meant. "Where?"

He studied his claws. "You're slipping, bunny," he teased, thoroughly enjoying the moment. "Got a guy right in front of you with networking skills that would put the internet to shame, and you need this explained to you?"

Judy's face lit up. "Let's go!" she exclaimed. She reached into her pocket for her cruiser keys, only to find them inexplicably gone.

Nick smirked and held up one paw, swinging the keys on a finger.

"Hey!" Judy snapped.

"Ha ha," he laughed. "Got-"

Suddenly the keys were in Judy's paw, and she had him by the tie. "You blinked. Come on, rookie – and stay out of my pockets."

"…cha."

Their first stop was a shopping plaza in Sahara Square, not far from the Palm Tree Hotel. According to Nick, the area was one of Finnick's favorite hangouts.

Sure enough, they found the van parked between a beverage shop (one of many in the area) and a thrift store. The former looked almost as if it had been carved out of a single piece of stone, with wavy walls in thin lines of strata in varied hues of red, yellow, and brown. Even the sign was carved from a slab of stone, with the letters carved down into a layer lighter in hue than that of the surface. About the only thing about it that looked like it hadn't come out of Baaadrock was a little sign with changeable letters reading, "Special of the Day: Coconut Water." The thrift store was of more modern build with clean-cut cement walls, a neon sign, and a notice in the window that they were having a special on male clothing. Its effort to look new was somewhat spoiled, as the paint had suffered from wind-blown sand.

Judy glanced at Nick. "You must come here a lot too," she quipped, jerking a thumb at the sign in the thrift store.

The fox folded his arms. "I thought you ladies appreciated a good sale. Come on, let's go see Finnick before-"

A gust of wind peppered them both with sand.

"... the wind picks up?" asked Judy when it had died, leaving both of them looking a good deal more beige.

"Let the record show you slowed us down with the crack about how I dress," Nick pointed out as he strode to the back of the van and knocked. "By the way, duck."

"Why-YEE!?" yelped Judy, heeding Nick's advice just in time. The opening door was followed almost instantly by a swinging baseball bat.

"Easy, Finnick," Nick laughed, standing up straight again and catching the weapon before Finnick could do the back swing. "It's just me and Carrots saying hi."

"Nick? What the heck, fox! Give the password next time. I coulda took you out!"

Nick smirked. "Just giving Carrots her daily reflex check."

"Nick!" Judy cried, smacking him on the arm. "You didn't tell me he'd be so jumpy this time." She'd met Finnick and his bat before when she was trying to find Nick, but the last time he'd asked questions first and swung later – or rather, not at all.

"Oh, he's always a little grumpy this time of day." Nick raised a fist to bump with his old pal. "How you doing, buddy?"

Finnick put aside the bat, and the two foxes bumped knuckles. "So what you doin' here this time?" he wanted to know.

Nick shrugged. "Business," he replied casually. "Mind if we discuss it inside?"

The fennec fox threw a skeptical glance at Judy, then stepped back and waved them in.

Nick climbed in first, then extended Judy a paw which she passed up for dignity's sake. "Thanks. By the way, proper introductions; Finnick, my little friend here's Judy Hopps, and Carrots, my _very_ little friend here is Finnick."

Finnick glowered at Nick. "You're never gonna let that joke die, are you?" He apparently didn't think it worth pointing out that he and Judy had already met.

Judy surveyed the van's interior as she chuckled at their banter. The seats had been pulled out, and most of the floor had been covered with shag carpet. The windows were tinted, making the whole interior feel cool and shaded – an effect which, combined with a few posters on the ceiling, conjured images of a night club or a college dorm room. A little electric cooler hummed in one corner, and a flat area with some loops in the wall alongside it, she guessed, showed where the foxes had once hitched the wagons for their popsicle sticks.

It occurred to Judy that she might have to re-think some of her habits. She might be working for the greater good, but could she really consider herself an honest cop if she consulted with known criminals? Then there was that business with Mr. Big; she'd have to figure her way through that too. On the other hand, this might not be the best time for it.

Finnick reached into the cooler. "What flavor pop you want?" he asked.

"Usual," Nick replied.

Judy wasn't even sure what brand of 'pop' Finnick meant, but decided to just follow Nick since he at least knew what they were doing. "Whatever he's having."

Finnick pulled out two bottles of blueberry soda and passed them to Nick before he pulled out a cherry one for himself. Popping the cap with his teeth, he extracted it by paw from his mouth and flicked it aside. "So," he asked, "Whatcha want?"

Nick used a small protrusion on the interior of the van to pop both caps, then handed one bottle to Judy. "Following leads on the fuss with ex-mayor Bellwether," he replied. "You know anything?"

"Who doesn't?" asked the miniature fox, still glancing warily at Judy. They hadn't talked much even when she came to ask him where Nick was less than a week before, and he was still cautious around her in light of her chosen occupation. "What kinda leads we talkin' here?"

Nick gestured to Judy, who took that as her cue to start talking. "Well, when Nick and I found the operation, we managed to apprehend Bellwether and two accomplices. At least three are unaccounted for, and we have reason to believe she had other suppliers besides the guy we also nabbed."

"Duke Weaselton," Finnick concluded.

"You know about that?"

Finnick smirked. "Fox-boy here's not the only one who keeps his ear to the ground." Catching the look on Nick's face, he added, "And I don't have to bend down so low to do it."

Nick pretended to be annoyed. "Darn it, you stole my joke."

"It's not stealing if it's worthless," Finnick quipped. "So you came here lookin' for information. Well, I got nothin' – not even for Nick."

Judy had a sneaking suspicion that the fennec wouldn't be so tight-lipped if she weren't around, but decided not to say anything.

"Well, would you mind keeping your ears open? Maybe getting into a few places we can't?" asked Nick.

From the look on Finnick's face, Judy was beginning to wonder if laughing at Nick's predicament when she forced him to help her was the only time the little fox ever smiled.

"I've been pretty busy just trying to keep gas in the van since you split the popsicle business," Finnick replied with a shrug. Then, seeming to lighten just a fraction, he added, "But I guess I could do you a favor for old times' sake."

Nick smiled. "Thanks, buddy – and talking of gas money, there's a reward out for any info leading to these guys' arrest." He handed Finnick a collection of photos of the known suspects, with a bill slipped in for good measure.

Finnick noticed the money, and he did smile a little. "Hey, copper," he asked Judy, "would you mind giving us a minute to ourselves? We've got catching up to do."

Judy got up and showed herself out. Finnick checked the window to see if she might be listening, then looked at Nick.

"So you've really thrown in with the fuzz, huh?"

Nick had been afraid it would come to this. The truth was, he still wasn't entirely sure about the career change – and between Bogo's remarks earlier and what he expected his old friend was about to say, his limited confidence was slipping. "I'm helping her out," he said evasively. "Being an informant has its benefits."

"To the tune of $200 a day?" asked Finnick, raising an eyebrow. "Come on, Nick. Only fools go into that for the cash, and they usually don't last long, if you get my drift."

 _Thank you for summing that up,_ thought Nick. He already knew all too well that there were several crime bosses who'd gladly give him the same kind of 'cold shoulder' Mr. Big nearly did. Still, he wasn't about to let his guard down. "Hey, Carrots thinks I can make it."

"You mean she thinks you can change," Finnick argued, "or that _she_ can change _you_." He spoke with absolute confidence that this was what Judy had planned. There was no question in his mind that the bunny was trying to make some kind of convert out of Nick. "The question is, do you want that?"

Martial artists sometimes practiced the trick of wearing their opponent down with a series of small, well-placed blows to throw off their balance before toppling the foe. Finnick, intentionally or not, was applying much the same approach to their conversation.

Nick, however, was no slouch when it came to verbal MMA either. "Are you worried about _me_ changing," he asked pointedly, "or are you worried about _us_ changing?"

That gave Finnick pause. Of course there was the fact that, if he did become a cop, Nick might be required one day to arrest Finnick. Another aspect of their dilemma, however, went deeper. There was a certain truth among those involved in unscrupulous business, which nearly all of them knew but few ever admitted, even to themselves. No criminal had anything against those who engaged in honest professions – provided that the profession in question didn't get in the way of the crook's line of work. At best, the criminal could laugh at the honest folks behind their backs, fancying himself to be of a higher class who did not let themselves be confined by society's concepts of right and wrong. He might convince himself that if the lowbrows working nine to five had the imagination, the guts, or the intelligence to hack it outside the law, they'd do it in a heartbeat, or tell himself that they simply didn't know what they were missing. At worst, they could be shrugged off. 'Nice that they can live without breaking the rules,' the crook might say, 'but it's not for me.'

Finnick had never been especially good at such defense mechanisms. Mammals like Nick – mammals who had lived in the dark and then embraced the light – made it harder still. They presented an uncomfortable reality: honest living was possible for anyone, if they were willing to do it. When it was someone talented and sly like Nick, the old lie that crooks were in any regard superior to everyday Joe Schmoes fell apart. A crook who went straight was like one of those guys in advertisements who said, 'If I can do it, you can do it,' and they inexorably begged the question: 'So why don't you?'

Deep down, Finnick was not as comfortable with his life as some crooks as many others in society's underbelly. His conscience was burned somewhat, but not 'seared with a hot iron' as his old mother would have said. Maybe that was what stopped him from considering this a personal blow; an attack not just on his career, but on his identity. Still, the pragmatic question remained. "And what if the big cheese tells you to bring me in, huh?" he asked.

Nick shook his head. "I can figure that out when I get to it," he argued. "The police haven't thrown me a mess yet that I couldn't slip out of."

Finnick folded his arms. "Until now, you didn't play their way."

The conversation didn't really go much of anywhere beyond that, and finally Nick just let his shoulders slump. "Look, buddy, this doesn't have to change things between us. Even if we're not in business anymore, we can still be friends, right?" He stuck out his paw to shake.

Finnick hesitated, then shook Nick's paw. "Alright," he conceded. "But you come here with pawcuffs..."

Nick's smile suddenly fell into a dead serious expression. "That's not gonna happen," he promised.

Each of them knew full well that they were making promises they might not be able to keep.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Olivia Poisson's house, a cell phone rang. The owner picked up. "What is it?"

"Judge just got a warrant request on Pwasson's Passions," answered a shaky voice.

"Is that so? Has the judge seen it yet?"

"No. The fax came while she was out of the office."

A grim sigh – possibly weary or possibly content – came through the phone line. "Very good. I'm sure you can file it... appropriately."

"Consider it done." Just before the call ended, there was the sound of a paper shredder.

 **Well, now who do you suppose that was?**

 **Special thanks for this chapter go to my friend ArmedKevin117 (I dont know if he has a profile on here, but he uses that name elsewhere) and AngloFalcon for proofreading, and to Roboboogie for his interest and information on chemistry and police work.**


	4. Four: The Persistent Past

" ** **You're such a bad boy, not trusting little old Cubis. Haven't I been everything an evil underworld creature should be?"****

 ** **Cubis,**** ** _ **Angel Wars**_**

After touching base with a few other residents of Sahara Square, they decided to drive over to Tundratown and see Mr. Big. The transition from blazing hot desert sand to freezing cold snow stunned Judy a little even though she expected it, but Nick pretty much took it in stride. After all, he used to make that switch with Finnick every day of the week.

Stopping at a red light, Judy took a moment to admire the goings-on in a small park just off the road. Out on a frozen pond, two young bucks – a deer and a rabbit, respectively – were trying to master ice skates with comical degrees of non-success. Not that far from them, a snowball fight between a snow leopard and a bison brought a smile to her face at the sign of recovery after the Night Howler scare. A ways off to the left, a pup who looked to be part wolf and part dingo lobbed a snowball at a tree, dumping a small avalanche on three pups who must have been his sisters. At least, Judy guessed that from the one set of mismatched parents rushing to the scene of the misdemeanor. On a playground towards the right, a young otter dressed in green and red rode a slide while a lemming in red and blue rode him like a surfboard.

A car horn behind her informed her that the light had changed, but not before she caught one last glimpse of warmth amid the ice and snow. A young beaver, tag-teaming with a tiger, was building what looked to be some kind of snow mammal. Judy couldn't be sure what species it was supposed to be, but it had two heads – one with three eyes – and a third arm in the middle of its chest. It reminded her of ones she had seen some of her brothers build, come to think of it.

 _Jordy would probably be taking notes,_ she thought, smirking at the memory of some of his 'masterpieces.' By popular opinion in the Hopps household, Jordy was to be thanked (or blamed) for all the nice trees their neighbors had planted on the property line.

"What is it with guys and weird snow mammals anyway?" she asked out loud.

When Nick made no quick reply, she glanced his way. His mouth was a flat line, devoid of either sorrow, mirth, or even his usual confidence. It bothered her.

"You okay, Nick?" she asked.

He blinked as if he had just woken up. "Huh?"

She focused on the road, but kept glancing at him out the corner of her eye. "You seem different."

Nick shook his head. "Ah, just remembering the old days."

"Heh." She smirked. "You mean about three to four months ago."

"Well, yeah," he admitted.

She reached over and nudged him reassuringly with a fist. "Relax, Nick. Finnick needs a little time to adjust to this, but I'm sure he'll come around."

Nick wished he was so confident. Judy didn't know Finnick like he did. The little guy was tough as nails and had a mean streak that would put a wolverine to shame if you got him mad enough. Still, Nick's breaking up the act had hit the little guy in the two places it hurt most: his budget, and his sense of loyalty. Life was tough enough for foxes, let alone pint-sized fennecs. Ever since the two of them had joined forces, Finnick had had three ways of responding to... well, to being cornered like he must have felt he was now. Those methods had been to outsmart his adversary, team up with Nick, or – if all else failed – lash out. This time, though, Plan A wasn't an option; Nick had, in all modesty, always been just a few watts brighter and a few shades more creative than Fin. Besides, most of what Finnick had in those departments was less tactical and more practical. Squeezing all that gear into the back of a minivan was no sweat for a brain like his, but talking his way around the law… not so much. That was one option down. Plan B was obviously out, especially if (gulp) Nick was ordered to arrest him one day. Now Plan C... well, Nick knew deep down that Finnick wouldn't have it in him to turn violent against his old partner in crime. He also knew that if he was ever proven wrong about that, it would be no contest. Nick's brain was a formidable weapon, but physically, he was useless in a fight – especially against old friends.

"I hope you're right," he admitted. After a moment's pause, he added, "Look, the police wouldn't tell a cop to arrest a friend, right? That's gotta be... I don't know, conflict of interest or something."

Judy frowned. It was true, the police _would_ try to find someone else – _if_ they knew the foxes were friends. Divulging that information, however, could only hurt Nick's chances at becoming an officer. Besides, they might involve Nick anyway on the basis of his usefulness in setting up a sting. She had read about that in the material at the academy, and until now it had all been just words on a page. Looking at it now, she realized it cut a lot deeper than that – and for the first time, a tiny part of her brain wondered if Nick actually had it in him to make it as a cop.

She was yanked out of her thoughts as the car suddenly began to swerve. Instantly tensing, she fought her instinctive reaction to slam on the brake or fight to correct her course. The best thing, she knew, was to ease off the gas and ride out the swerve. She had learned the method from a show about hurricanes, though experience had also proven its usefulness on snow and ice.

Unfortunately, even the best methods sometimes went awry. The car lurched off the road and plowed nose-first into a snow bank, flinging her and Nick against their seat belts with a yank.

"Oh, sweet cheese and crackers," she muttered under her breath.

Nick, seeing that neither of them were injured, instinctively tried to put a lighter face on things. "Ah. Well, you could've gone into the traffic instead," he observed. He pointed left through the cars now going around them to the oncoming ones across the road.

She sighed and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess that's true." She hit the blinkers, shifted into reverse, and tried to back out slowly as soon as a gap appeared in the flow of vehicles. The tires spun, but got nowhere.

"More gas?" Nick suggested, trying to be helpful.

She shook her head. "Worst thing I could do," she pointed out. "If the tires caught suddenly and shot us back out into the traffic-"

Her words were cut off by the rumble of a bus driving past; one made, as best they could judge, for any size passenger up to polar bears. Nick followed its progress and swallowed. "Yeah, I see what you mean." Okay, so he wasn't a rocket scientist at the wheel. There was a reason Finnick always did the driving when they had been partners in crime. He watched Judy try a few more times to get them out, then shrugged. "Well, lucky you've got me around." He unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling roadside assistance," he replied, clambering up the door to the roof. "I've got friends all over this part of town. Give it five minutes tops before one of them comes by."

Judy frowned. "The last time you introduced me to a friend in Tundra Town, he almost killed us."

"Tuh. Picky picky."

It was only two minutes before a car stopped behind them, flicking on its own blinkers. "See?" Nick called, his voice sounding through the roof. He had shut the door so Judy could stay warm. "The old Wilde card works every- aw, no."

"What is it?" asked Judy, instantly alert as she opened her door with one paw and checked her stun gun with the other. She expected a gang of hostile animals to come clamoring out of the car, intent on paying Nick back for some past hustle.

Instead, to her surprise, a posse of sultry-looking vixens, white as the snow around them, emerged. A passing wind carried mingled scents of perfume from them to Judy's nose, along with a touch of fur bleach. At a glance, they were all nearly identical; all of them wore black outfits which, though covering most of their bodies, didn't leave much guesswork on the shapes _of_ those bodies. They all looked to be wearing eyeliner, and when they blinked, most revealed eye shadow as well. One of them removed a pair of mirrored sunglasses – not unlike Nick's, though much sleeker in shape – and blinked lavender-lidded eyes at the fox on the roof.

"Nicholas Wilde," she remarked in a Russian accent as smooth as melted butter, "what are the chances?"

Nick gulped. _Not slim enough, apparently._ "Hey ladies. Hey... Vanya. Uh, mind lending us a paw?"

Nick briefly introduced the vixens as 'the Angels,' and Judy noticed that he introduced her to them as 'Officer Hopps' and not something less formal. The crew of females quickly surrounded the car, and with Nick and Judy they were all soon at work trying to get it loose. This wasn't an easy job, but it gave Vanya the chance to sidle up to Nick as they pulled and pushed.

"So, Naughty Boy, what have you been up to?" she asked. Tugging at the open frame of one of the doors, she somehow managed to purr even as she grunted. Judy, who was inside gently trying to coax the reverse gear into action, heard every word and scrunched her face at the phrase, 'Naughty Boy.'

Nick coughed. "Oh, uh, you know. Took some time off from the old hustle, looked into a few new ideas – the usual."

She smirked. "Always something new with you, darling. You know, _I've_ heard a rumor that _you_ are looking into law enforcement."

Judy glanced at Nick as best she could without actually turning her head. He was clearly uneasy. "Well, you know the song: try everything, right?"

This drew a low, almost musical chuckle from the vixen. "Always playing the dangerous games, Naughty Boy. That's what I always liked about you."

At the moment, Judy thought it was Vanya playing the dangerous game. "Hey," she said, trying to sound disinterested, "would you mind not whispering in the back? I'm trying to concentrate."

Mercifully, a passing arctic hare pulled over next with a towing hitch and offered his help. The Angels had to move their car, and Vanya was clearly annoyed to have her time with Nick cut off like that, but in almost no time the car was loose.

"Such a shame to part so quickly, Nick," she called. "Don't forget to call, alright?"

Nick shook his head. "Ancient history, Vanya," he called back, climbing into the car and closing the door.

The vixens left. The hare unhooked his car, tossed a salute to the two sleuths, and then departed as well. Judy glanced across at Nick. "Ex girlfriend?" she ventured.

He nodded. "And before you ask, she was too clingy and I'd rather not talk about it."

Judy closed her mouth and frowned at him before returning her attention to the road. "I hate it when you read my mind," she complained.

Nick's smile returned. "Oh, but that's _bound_ to come in handy on the job," he teased.

Meanwhile, in the other vehicle, one of the other Angels glanced at Vanya. "He'll be answering for that later won't he?"

Vanya studied her claws. "Of course he will," she replied, "but only when it suits me. Overt chases are too commonplace."

Vanya had a way with males rather like a spoiled child's way with toys: she grabbed whoever she wanted, played with him until she got bored, and then broke him or threw him aside, depending on what she felt like doing. Those who refused to cooperate... well, she never did anything to them right away. That would be too obvious. No, she much preferred to bide her time and let them forget her until she came back to remind them. Her methods of doing this were many, but never pleasant for the male who had displeased her.

Nick Wilde had been a particularly challenging one, and the truth was that she had never gotten all she wanted from him – a fact which she would have liked very much to remedy. If he came back, she might even forgive him – or perhaps not. As it was, he wanted to go, so she let him... for the moment.

 **I'm sorry this chapter doesn't do much for the story (at least for the time being), but I felt that after the talk with Finnick it needed a more reflective scene. Also, I needed to get Vanya established as she's going to be quite the key player later on. As some of you probably know already, I based her and her group on the so-called Angels from the film's earlier concepts. In this version, they work for Mr. Big on jobs where his usual polar bears would be too obtrusive – or just too big. The question now is, will Vanya let Nick's renewed standing with Mr. Big stop her if she wants her old boyfriend back?**

 **On a side note, why do I get the feeling Vanya would get along great with Poisson?**

 **In addition to the original concept reference, I've made this chapter an Easter Egg hunt. Here are the clues:**  
 **Three Disney movies**  
 **Two comic refs**  
 **And a Spectacular Spider-Man**  
 **(and now you'll be hearing that in musical form)**

 **Thanks for reading! Don't forget to fave, follow, and review!**


	5. Five: Fox Paus

**Chapter Text**

 ** **"God gives grace to the humble, but He flattens the hotshot."****

 ** **Mrs. Martin,**** _**The Adventures of McGee and Me**_

"Hey, watch it!"

Nick darted aside as a rhino's foot came down uncomfortably close to where he had been standing. It was late morning the day after his rounds with Judy, with the early part having been spent contacting his most promising acquaintances. That task completed, he'd remembered that the food supply at his apartment was a little scant. He was supposed to meet with Judy that afternoon once she was done interviewing some of the victims in the recent drugging incident to see if that might turn up any leads.

On the whole, he found he preferred crooks and cons to the daytime crowd in Savannah Central.

The massive mammal glanced down at him. "Watch yourself, short stuff," he rumbled, moving on as if Nick had just inconsiderately put himself in a position to get stomped.

Nick shook his head. "How can someone look down his nose with those big horns in the way?" he muttered, going back to browsing the dried bugs. It crossed his mind to wonder why an herbivore was even in an aisle specifically geared to pred foods, and he considered asking if the rhino was looking for a relative among the beetles. However the jerk _was_ leaving, and the quip wasn't worth bringing him back – much less potentially getting flattened. Instead, Nick just made a mental note to look more carefully for other large animals passing through. The fact that he kept looking high might have been the reason why he failed to notice when a mammal much nearer his size range stopped and stared at him. It took her a moment to recognize him, but her jaw fell open when she did.

While Nick failed to observe his observer, he did spot a lioness walking by, trailing a cub with a balloon on a long, _long_ string. Ever the sales-fox, it occurred to him that balloons would make a handy solution to the visibility issue. His mom had done that sometimes back in his cubhood when they went to fairs.

"Only, I'd look ridiculous walking around with a balloon tied to me," he uttered under his breath. Pawaiian shirts – like the _very_ loud red one he was currently wearing, bedecked with yellow flowers outlined in gold – were one thing. They were fun in their own way, especially today when he felt the need to reassert himself by wearing something outlandish even by his standards. A balloon, though, would be going too far. Catching a glimpse of a passing antelope buck with a doe on his arm, he noted another snag with the idea: "And it would wreak havoc on my charm."

"Do you always talk to yourself?"

He turned around and froze. There in front of him was the vixen from the day before. His words to Judy came back to him: _'You know this is going to bite me on the off chance I bump into her later, right?'_ He tried to push that less-than-cheerful thought aside. Maybe she had forgotten their last run-in.

She apparently took his silence as a cue to continue herself. "So, it's 'Junior Detective,' right?"

Nick wanted to dig a hole in the floor. _Then again, maybe not._ "Nick Wilde, actually," he replied, hoping to salvage his dignity. "Only Carrots ever calls me... Junior Detective." He trailed off, realizing he had just admitted to being on a nickname basis with the cop who had pulled her over. _Someone slap me already,_ he thought.

"Carrots?" Taelia tilted her head, wrinkling her face in confusion.

"The cop who, uh... the rabbit," he amended. "You might know her as Judy Hopps?"

Nick figured an offhanded delivery of news like that was sure to get a reaction. The vixen didn't disappoint as her eyes popped open.

" _The_ Judy Hopps?!" she echoed. She'd thought the rabbit looked familiar the day before, but she'd been a little too busy hoping to avoid a ticket to think about it. Now she almost wished she _had_ been ticketed. It would practically be an autograph.

He shrugged apologetically. "That's the one. Sorry about the traffic stop."

She waved a hand, brushing the matter aside and trying not to blush. "Nah, it's fine. I was a little out of it. Sometimes I just get too into the music, you know?"

Nick, who preferred to take a 'too cool for this' approach to most tunes, nodded anyway. "Yeah, I gotcha."

By some unspoken signal, the two of them went on with their shopping in tandem, still chatting. Nick was taking mental notes on the vixen's selections the whole time; a hard-wired habit from years in the sales world. He also made note of the fact that neither of her paws had a ring on it. That was as much a survival skill as anything else, really; a hefty number of his narrow escapes in the past had come from trying to steal someone's girl. She picked up on his attentiveness, but pretended not to notice.

"I don't think I caught your name," he mentioned.

"That's because I didn't throw it," she replied, sticking out a paw. "Taelia Fangaster." She pronounced it 'Tal-ya.'

 _Interesting name,_ he thought. "You seem to know the store pretty well," he noted as she unhooked a small stepladder from her shopping cart and climbed up to reach a deal on one of the higher shelves.

She shrugged. "Well, I like to try different things when it comes to food, so I explore a lot. So how did you end up riding with Judy Hopps? I didn't think cops gave rides."

He coughed a little. "Uh, actually, I'm not supposed to talk about it," he explained as she came back down the ladder. Then he leaned in closer and whispered, "I'm helping her on a case."

" _Really?"_ she asked, her voice piquing with redoubled interest. A fox being friends with a police officer - and a rabbit, at that - had been enough to fix Nick's face in her mind from the start (and it wasn't a half-bad face, either). That the fox in question would actually be _working_ with that officer on a case... well, _that_ she had to hear more about. "What kind of case?"

"Well, on the record I can't tell you that." He had largely managed to stay out of the news articles. The ZPD made it a rule to keep informants and witnesses anonymous whenever possible. Although word seemed to have reached old associates that he was working _with_ the authorities this time, he was just fine with not helping it along. Taelia seemed safe enough, though, so he leaned toward her and whispered, "Strictly between us foxes, though, it _might_ have something to do with the predators being darted over the last few months."

She blinked in surprise as if a camera flash had gone off in her face, and her ears flicked in bewilderment. "You were part of that?"

He nodded, pausing to pick up a package of Pup-Tarts. "I gave her a few leads, yeah," he replied. He was pleased to see that his charm hadn't abandoned him. It was easy to see that she was eating the story up, so he decided to divulge a little more. "And I kind of helped her out when it came to bringing in Bellwether."

Taelia was intrigued by Nick's claim. She'd outgrown the idea of a selfless hero motivated purely by altruism some time ago (well, sort of), but a girl could still dream, right? "So what kind of help did you give her?"

Nick suspected he had already said more than the ZPD would like, and he definitely didn't want to answer _that_ question too fully. At least, he didn't want to answer it then and there. A well-told story could sweep a female off her paws, but a supermarket wasn't usually the best setting. _Time for a quick dodge and switch,_ he thought, shrugging carelessly to cover his sudden reticence. "Oh, just putting her in touch with a few people here and there. I've got friends all over the city, and Judy has a way of bringing out the best in mammals. I think she'll go far in life."

Taelia caught the effort to change the subject, but decided to humor him. "Hmm, I see. So what do you do when _you're_ not saving the day, Mr. Kent?"

He raised an eyebrow at the joke. "Eh, bit of an entrepreneur, really; mostly in sales."

"What kind of sales?"

"You name it. Pawpsicles, rugs; all kinds of things. I'm thinking about changing careers, though. Judy's kind of got me leaning toward law enforcement."

Taelia looked up from some yogurt-covered raisins. "A fox cop? Has that ever been done before?"

"Nah, but why let that stop me? It's not like there's been a lot of rabbit cops either."

She smiled. It was a tall tale to swallow, but deep down, she really wanted to believe him. "Well, I'm sure you'll do great."

Nick paused. Not many mammals ever expressed confidence in him. Since he'd lost his dad the only ones to say they were "sure he'd do great" were his mother (who _would_ say that, of course) and Judy. "Thanks," he said with full meaning. "That means a lot." Uncomfortable with the silence, he asked, "So what do you do for a living?"

"Oh, me? I'm a D-Jane." In response to the puzzled look this gained her, she explained, "A sound technician. You know, the person in the sound booth at concerts and recording sessions? Kind of like a conductor. I make the music sound better."

"Ah." Nick hadn't really given much thought to that, but he guessed someone had to do it. "So you must work with a band or something, right?"

"A few. I've got some regular bits, but I'm basically a free agent."

 _'Free agent.' I like the sound of that,_ thought Nick. "Anyone I'd know?"

She shrugged. "Well, Gazelle for one."

Nick's eyes popped. "You've worked with Gazelle?"

Taelia laughed. "No, I wish. I always say that to see if people are paying attention. Sometimes mammals just kind of glaze over when I tell them what I do."

"No, I want to hear," he insisted, quite honestly. "So what are some of your regulars?"

"Ever heard of _Vixen?"_

Nick paused. " _Vixen_. Yeah, I've heard some of their songs on the radio. You were behind that?"

"Every note," she answered with just a touch of pride. "I've been with them since the band got together in college."

The tod made a mental note to look up some of _Vixen_ 's music. He was pretty sure he'd heard a few of their songs here and there, but a concentrated study wouldn't hurt.

They got so caught up in talking and shopping that both of them were a little surprised when they found themselves on the other side of the checkout. Nick coughed. "Well, I guess this is where we part ways."

Taelia considered. She didn't want to be forward - it wasn't her style and had a way of landing her in trouble - but she liked Nick and had gotten nothing but good signals from him so far. "That depends," she replied.

"Depends on what?"

She hesitated only a moment longer before she said, "On whether you were going to ask me to lunch or a movie."

"Ah." Nick coughed. _Way to put a guy on the spot,_ he thought. "Well, do you mind if I stop at the bank first?" By way of explanation, he dug in his pocket and held up his wallet. He made it a habit to only carry enough cash to cover whatever errand he was on at the moment. "I don't think I've got enough on me for lunch."

Taelia shrugged as she hefted her two sacks of groceries, feeling a tad guilty for springing that on him. "The nearest bank's two blocks away. How about I treat? Call it a thank-you for what you did for all of us."

Nick was a little thrown. "Well, if you insist," he said without much reluctance. Vixen or no vixen, he wasn't of a mind to turn down free lunch.

Taelia led the way to a _Chez Cheese_ outlet just around the corner. Business was fairly slow at that time of day, so they hardly had to wait in line at all – something Nick suspected was not just lucky timing. He recognized the air of someone who, like him, had what she did down to an art form.

"What'll it be?" asked the mouse behind the counter.

The vixen smiled. "Got any mild cheddar with bits of dried strawberry in it?"

Nick blinked. He'd long been in the habit of trying new things in food, but that was a new one even on him.

The mouse looked equally confused. "Uh, no," he said slowly, "but we've got it with basil and sun-dried tomato."

"Mmm, nah." Taelia shook her head. "I have that all the time. How about a slice of the jalapeno cheese on a fish patty sandwich, with a side of mozzarella sticks and horseradish dip? Oh, and a small fountain drink."

"Yep, we've got that," the mouse agreed, punching in the order. He turned to Nick. "What about you?"

Nick thought for a minute and, not wanting to be outdone by a vixen, ordered a grilled cheese sandwich with interspersed layers of horseradish and habanero cheese, some spicy fries, and a medium fountain drink. "Upgrade her drink too," he added, pulling out a couple of bills.

Taelia turned to him with a raised eyebrow, but she was smiling.

"You didn't have to do that," she told him en route to the table. "Refills are free, so I always get the small size when I'm eating in." She slipped her bags under the table and added, "I appreciate the thought, though."

"Anytime," he said, half-wishing they'd picked a free-standing table instead of a booth so he could draw out a chair for her. He hadn't gotten to be one of the best hustlers in the city without knowing how to charm a lady, but a restaurant like this limited the options for sweeping her off her feet. Taking note of her idiosyncrasies, however, was still an option.

"So," he asked, "what was with the strawberry cheese request?"

She laughed. "Oh, that. Well, I came across some free samples once at a store and it was love at first bite." Seeing the skeptical look on his face, she insisted, "It's actually really good. I'd buy a wheel of it to use at home, but specialty items like that are so darn expensive. So whenever I come to one of these places I ask just in case they break down and add it to the menu."

Nick thought about that. He liked a good bit of berry once in a while, so why not? Then he remembered that, now he was trying to put scams behind him, his finances were a little tighter than usual. _Maybe when I get my first bonus check,_ he thought, _assuming police get bonus checks._

They left their table briefly to fill up; Nick with a Koala Kola and Taelia with strawberry milk. It looked more and more like she had a regular plan for these things, because that took exactly the time needed for their order to come up. Nick was impressed, and maybe that was why he paused at the condiment station to squeeze some extra hot sauce onto his sandwich.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Taelia. "I don't know if you know this, but the hot sauce here is kind of... intense."

 _Ah-ha,_ thought Nick, priding himself on being the last one to blink. "I've had their hot sauce," he assured her with a calm wink.

They sat down, and he waited smugly while she took a bite. Her cheeks bulged for a moment as she chewed. Then she swallowed with maybe just a hint more effort than one would expect for the bite she took. Nick, in turn, took a bite of his own sandwich.

 _AHHHHHH!_ The hot sauce was like pepper spray in the mouth! He grasped at his throat, fought to keep from spitting out his mouthful, and then frantically grabbed for his soda.

"Nick, hold it!" Taelia cried. She snatched the soda away from him and offered her own drink instead. Confused but not really caring about details, he accepted the milk and drank like his life depended on it.

"Don't chug it down," she advised hastily. "Just hold it in your mouth. It'll calm down the hot sauce."

It took a lot of self-control to heed her advice, but, to his surprise, he found it worked. "Thanks," he said, breathing hard. "Whoo. I guess it's been a little too long since I had a gutburner special."

Taelia raised an eyebrow. "You know they changed their hot sauce, right? Customers were complaining it wasn't strong enough."

Nick wanted to smack himself in the face. "Thanks for the warning."

She laughed. "Well I did try," she pointed out, "but you were so casual about it I thought you knew."

 _Ouch._ Then it occurred to him that he'd guzzled down most of her drink. "Sorry," he added, lifting the cup. "Uh, I guess I can buy you another drink if you don't want this one back."

She giggled and waved a paw dismissively. "No, let's just switch. This one's hardly been touched, and I think you'll need mine to polish off that sandwich. Besides, soda just makes anything acidic worse."

He gazed doubtfully at his chosen (very poorly chosen, in retrospect) lunch. Then, deciding he'd already sacrificed his dignity anyway, he went to the milk fountain for a top-off.

 _Nice one, Rameo,_ he thought to himself.

To Taelia's credit, she didn't laugh at what had happened to him – well, not much. "I'll give you points for effort," she admitted when, with great difficulty, he had finished his sandwich. "You're good at this."

He laughed, mostly to cover up the pain in his maw. He wasn't sure it was possible, but he was fairly certain he'd have blisters on the roof of his mouth later. "Thanks." It occurred to him that Judy would have been reading him the riot act – albeit in a very caring way – for doing that to his insides. Only a day or two before, he had eaten two or three doughnuts for lunch and she had asked – albeit jokingly – if he'd gone and picked Clawhauser as a role model.

"Well, I guess I should be heading back home," Taelia remarked, picking up her bags.

"I'll walk you to your car," Nick offered, grabbing his own.

"Didn't bring one. My apartment's just a couple of blocks away."

Nick managed to talk her into letting him give her a lift – his thanks for the meal and for her not laughing too hard over the hot sauce. "It was fun," he said when she asked him again outside her apartment building if he was feeling alright. Then when she gave him a major 'not buying it' look, he added, "Okay, the sandwich wasn't fun, but that was my fault. _Lunch_ was fun. We should do it again sometime."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that your way of asking for my phone number?"

He smiled confidently. Some dogs had trouble talking to the ladies. To him, it was like riding a bicycle. "I might have been thinking about that," he admitted without a trace of reluctance.

"Well," she replied, slipping a card out of her shirt pocket, "I might have been thinking about giving it to you." She paused a moment to write something on it, then handed it to him with a surprisingly shy smile for someone who had basically asked him out not an hour ago.

 _Nice,_ he thought as he accepted the card. She definitely had style, and not just when it came to banter. The paper stock wasn't _quite_ top-grade, but the image – her name spelled out in flowing script and underlined by a red and orange electric guitar – was pretty eye-catching. Underneath the guitar was printed, "Sound Technician," and on the back it had her phone number and an e-mail address. Next to these she had hand-written 'Best time: 7-10 PM.'

"I'll call you," he promised, tucking it into his shirt pocket.

She rolled her eyes as he made a show of pulling out some shades and popping them on, but she waved as he pulled away. "See you later, Junior Detective."

He opened his mouth to correct her, then stopped. _I could get used to it,_ he thought.

Taelia watched as he drove off. She'd learned the hard way not to make too many snap decisions when it came to tods, but she was at least resolved to keep an eye on this one.

 **And that's it for this chapter. I realize that Nick wasn't quite his usual funny self in the previous chapters, which in fairness was sort of the point, but I hope I got his comical side this time. As always, questions and comments are welcome.**  
 **How do you think Judy will react if/when she finds out about Taelia? Will this have any impact on Nick's pursuit of the case?**  
 **When I posted this on , a number of people have commented on the "Mr. Kent" remark. Admittedly I knew from the get-go that putting that in would be a little off, but I figure there would be some equivalent to Superman in Zootopia's entertainment industry (after all, the themes he's built on are pretty intuitive). I've tried to think of a suitable animal-ized parody name, but I must confess I have no ideas there. Suggestions welcome.**  
 **Last but not least, I pulled the name of Taelia's band from one in a web comic called The Conspiracy. And no, they are not all vixens or even all foxes, but you'll have to read on to find out more about that.**


	6. Six: What Ever Happened to Trust

**"Even my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has (betrayed) me."**

 **Psalm 41:9**

Judy strode through the halls of Zootopia Central Hospital's psychiatric ward, past row after row of blank doors heavier than most in the hospital due to the greater need to isolate individual patients. As a younger bunny, she had been quite accustomed to hospitals; between her mom's frequent visits to the maternity ward and her own antics' tendency to get her injured on occasion, she'd practically been on a first-name basis with at least half the doctors at Saint Ninnian's Tri-Burrow Medical Center. The center, however, hadn't had a psychiatric ward, since rabbits as a rule tended to be pretty even-keeled. The sight of such heavy doors, along with some less-than-pleasant memories of visits to this hospital wing's Isolation Unit, made this walk feel rather like her trip down to the Nocturnal District the day before.

Fortunately, she reminded herself, there was one big difference: this time she was on her way to visit someone she'd already met; someone who, she was sure, would be more than glad to see her. According to the nurse at the front desk, Mr. Otterton was well on his way to a full recovery. The hospital had decided to extend his stay, along with those of the other patients, for observation purposes; the nighthowler serum was enough of a departure from ordinary cases that it had been deemed best to play it safe. So far, however, it looked like the worst damage done in the long term was some overtaxed adrenaline glands – hardly a surprising side effect, and nothing the right care couldn't handle.

At room 201, she pushed a button next to the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Otterton," she called. "You feel up for a visit?"

"Are you joking?" answered a voice through the speaker a moment later. "Come on in before I die of boredom!"

Laughing, Judy walked in the door. The room looked much nicer on the inside; almost homey, in fact. Soft blue walls, flowers on the table and bookshelf, a soft-glowing floor lamp, a chair near the bed, and even a few wall decorations made it feel more like a bedroom than a hospital room. For a personal touch, the Ottertons had brought framed photos, a hand-sewn pillow shaped like a fish, and even a fishing pole of Emmitt's which stood propped up in one corner next to the oldest son's lucky baseball bat. Indeed, aside from a few odd bits of equipment and the bed itself, Judy felt like she had stepped into someone's house.

"Well, well, Officer Judy Hopps," the grizzled-looking otter on the bed greeted, smiling with recognition. After cracking the case and finding Emitt, Judy had quickly become friends with the whole family – but at the moment, Emitt was the only one there. "What's the occasion?"

"Wanted to see how you're doing," she answered, "and ask a few questions if you're up for it."

"Of course, of course," he agreed, waving to the chair. "Ask away."

Judy sat and pulled out a notepad. Though her smartphone had its advantages (and she always set it to record interviews in case she missed something), she liked the old-school feeling of scrawling a pen across paper. It made her feel like a detective, which – together with getting Nick into a uniform – was her next big ambition now that she was a cop.

"Have you thought of any reason why you in particular might have been targeted?" she asked. They'd discussed the question before, since so far few of the afflicted mammals had any common threads to speak of. None of them knew each other or ran in the same circles, and the closest link any of them had to major circles Bellwether might have wanted to disrupt – save that Mr. Otterton had worked for Mr. Big in a strictly legal capacity – was that the second polar bear targeted was Koslov's second cousin twice removed. It was almost as if someone had stood in a room wallpapered with the names of Zootopia's predators, put on a blindfold, and thrown darts around.

Mr. Otterton shook his head. "Can't think of any," he confessed.

Judy tried a few more questions, most of which concerned business or political figures whom the ZPD's detectives had listed as perhaps being at odds with Bellwether. It turned out that for such an innocent-seeming ewe, she'd had a number of grudges with various predators. Unfortunately, aside from having voted for one or two of the officials, Mr. Otteron had no discernible links to any of them.

Finally, Judy tried her own hunch. "Do you happen to know Olivia Poisson?"

"No... wait, is she related to Arthur Poisson?"

Judy almost jumped out of her chair with excitement after such a long time of blank looks and empty answers. "Yes, that's the one."

Mr. Otteron shrugged. "Well, I knew her father after a fashion. He provided most of the initial investment to get my flower shop up and running."

Judy considered this. "So Mr. Poisson owned stock in your company?"

"Still owns some," Mr. Otterton admitted. "He advised me to buy back enough to get over fifty-one percent, which I did, but I saw no sense in worrying about the rest. Last I heard, he still owns it." To himself, he mused, "Wonder what he's up to these days anyway?"

 _That doesn't add up,_ Judy thought. _If Olivia respects her father even half as much as she seemed to when I met her, she wouldn't want to hurt his stock holdings or a company he helped start._

She jotted down a note to look into the ramifications of that question later, then decided to try another train of thought. "So there's no hostility between you and the Poissons?'

"Not that I can see," he assured her. "Why would you..." he trailed off, and his face took on a stunned expression. "Great Scott!" he uttered in quiet shock. "You don't think I was targeted because of one of them, do you?"

"Just checking all leads," Judy assured him. She could see, however, that the insinuation had unsettled him, so she made the rest of the interview brief. "Thanks for all the help," she told him in parting. "I'll keep in touch."

Mr. Otterton looked worried as he thanked her in turn. "Judy," he told her, "whatever's going on here, Mr. Poisson has been a good skunk for as long as I've known him. I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for him."

 _That could be taken a couple of ways,_ thought Judy, considering her suspicion that Olivia might have been involved somehow in targeting the otter. "Actually, it's his daughter I've been asked to investigate," she admitted. "I realize it's a slim thread, but we're not leaving any stone unturned on this."

Mr. Otterton put a paw to his chin, thinking. "His daughter..." he mused. "Well, I never knew his family much, but from what I knew of him I can't believe any child of his could be a part of what's been going on."

Judy thanked him and left, hoping he was right and feeling somewhere deep in her bones that he wasn't. After all, who knew better than she did that sometimes the apple _did_ fall far from the tree? Besides, with an attitude like Olivia's, something had to be up.

As she drove from the hospital to the next stop on her itinerary, Judy went over what she knew in her mind. The way Emmitt described Olivia's father, it sounded as if he considered the skunk more than an investor; an associate at the very least, and maybe a friend. That didn't necessarily eliminate any chance of a link between Miss Poisson and the Night Howlers, although it made it seem far less likely that she'd had a role in choosing the targets.

 _Unless of course Olivia didn't share in that connection,_ she mused. _Besides, sometimes the ones you think are your best friends can be your worst enemies._ There was no way she'd ever forget the striking switch between Bellweather's friendly words during the case, and the way the ewe had tried to murder her using her best friend as a weapon.

Then another thought came to her. _I wonder if those shares left with her father fell into her paws along with Pwasson's Passion._

She reasoned that if Olivia did have stock in the flower shop, that would have prevented her from wanting to harm the business or anyone involved in it. Then she thought of something else. Finance and corporate affairs weren't her forte, but she was pretty sure she remembered seeing a show in which someone tried to arrange the deaths of a bunch of business tycoons, saying that her own shares in their companies would 'triple in value' when the owners died – or something like that, at least. Granted, the show had been a sci-fi show, but if such a stunt was possible in the real world...

As she was linking one thought to another, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. _Is that Nick's car?_ She maneuvered closer. Sure enough, it was; she remembered him showing it off the previous week. He didn't make a habit of driving, but now that he was going on the up and up he wasn't so worried about keeping a low profile. The car was just his style; a classic convertible, red with a canvas roof, refurbished and outfitted with a 'big league' engine by some feline mechanics over on the outskirts of Sahara Square. True to form, Nick had managed to pass the bill off to an old associate who owed him a favor.

Of course all of this was peripheral. What really interested Judy was what happened when Nick pulled up to the curb. Conveniently the light ahead was red, so she stopped and watched through her rear-view mirror as a vixen stepped out and briefly talked with Nick. Judy had always been good at remembering faces (one advantage of coming from a big family), and she recognized the vixen as easily as an old friend.

 _Well gol-ly,_ she thought, mentally parodying the impression most tended to get that she was a young, naïve country girl. _What are the chances of that?_

Actually, being a math whiz, Judy realized that the chances of their three paths crossing like this – and without Nick knowing it at that – bordered on astronomical. Later, thinking back on it, she would get the distinct impression that someone upstairs was having a good, hard laugh.

 **I thought about taking my time with Judy finding out about Taelia, but why drag it out? I've already lost one reader by taking too long to get to the action (and I hate to say it, but it looks like that's a few chapters off). Don't worry; it's a-coming.**

 **Now, just to mix things up a little I'm announcing an Easter Egg Hunt (okay, so Easter's over half a year away; sue me). PM me the answers to any of the following questions (and maybe how you got the answers), and I'll give you a shout-out in the next chapter. Guess them all, and I might include your requests or characters in later works. Don't guess them all... and I still might take your suggestions; they're always welcome.**

 **First Easter Egg: Where did I get the name for the hospital Judy had known before?**

 **Second Easter Egg: I've hidden an actor in some references pertaining to Mr. Otterton. The clues are one of his lines, one of the items placed in his room, and his first name. Who is the actor?**

 **Third Easter Egg: What show did Judy think back on?**

 **Fourth Easter Egg: Who are the mechanics who refurbished Nick's new car?**

 **Happy hunting!**

 **Concerning the feedback on Chapter Five:**

 **My thanks to everyone. I was wondering what kind of reception Taelia would meet, and it's nice to know I managed to strike a good tone with her. Without getting too much into spoilers, I wanted to make her the sort of everyday character one would generally find around Zootopia - the ones (perhaps) most at the center of the ZPD's work despite being the least involved in it. It was also fun to show Nick in a more casual setting; you might have noticed this story deals a lot with him in particular (not to worry; Judy's parts are still to come), and bringing out an everyday angle on him (as winerp and RoboBoogie noted) as well as some of his trademark snark was a real treat.**

 **Winerp: I agree, love triangles are very difficult to write correctly - and if you think Nick's connections are tangled now, just you wait. I'm just getting warmed up.**


	7. Seven: Surprise, Surprise

Author's Note: My thanks to those who mentioned another word for a male fox: "Reynard." At first it sounded too much like a personal name to really use as a word, but after thinking it over I decided that it would work well as a synonym for gentlefox. Since I use that in this chapter, this one's for you guys.

And now, on with the show!

 **Bilbo: "Don't do that! (play with the knives) You'll blunt them!"**

 **Dwarf: "Oh, do you hear that, lads? He says we'll blunt the knives."**

 **The Hobbit (this bit is even funnier if you look up the "Blunt the Knives" scene on YouTube. Go ahead; I'll wait)**

* * *

The cop and would-be cop met that evening to compare notes at Judy's apartment. Nick cast an eye around, taking in the shabby wallpaper and sparse furnishings, the nicest of which was a very small dresser Judy had picked up as a roadside freebie. The fact that one of the antelopes next door (thankfully while heading out) had almost stepped on the fox without so much as an 'oops' hadn't done wonders for his impression of the place.

"Luxury apartments, huh?" he asked.

Judy shrugged. "I know, I know. I wanted the whole 'big city' experience."

Nick smirked. "Kind of like wanting to ask someone out 'in the worst possible way'?"

He might as well have rolled out the red carpet. "Funny _you_ should say that," the bunny couldn't resist pointing out.

"And why would that be?" he asked, frowning.

Judy glanced at him with the same look she gave a parking meter when it chimed. "Well, unless I'm going crazy, I saw you driving with that vixen earlier. Uh..." she stared at the ceiling with a paw to her chin. "Tabitha, was it?"

"That's Taelia," Nick replied, a little nonplussed at having been caught. He wasn't sure which Judy seemed to be better at: being in just the right place at just the right time to catch him up to something, or saying, 'I told you so' without actually saying it.

Nor was Judy going to stop there. "Ha!" she exclaimed. "Gotcha!"

 _Rrrgh._ Nick could not believe he'd been caught with that trick. _Judy,_ he thought, _is beginning to get too clever for_ my _own good_. "You're right," he said cynically. "You are going crazy."

"Ha ha. Now spill it."

"For your information," he said in his defense, folding his arms, "I was making sure she wouldn't get pulled over for distracted driving."

Judy wasn't buying it, but she decided to play along. "And who's going to take care of _your_ distracted driving?" she teased.

The fox weighed his options. If he told her the whole story – that Taelia had treated him to a bite to eat and he'd given her a lift to be a reynard – he'd never get a moment's peace. If he made something up, she'd probably find out anyway and be twice as insufferable once she did, which – quite frankly – was a far worse prospect than he wanted to even think about.

For her own part, Judy wasn't about to let a little thing like a lack of information stop her; no sir. "So does she have a ring?"

 _Okay,_ now _she's getting nosy,_ he thought. "Now why would I tell you a thing like that?"

"You checked," she announced triumphantly. "If you hadn't, you would have said so."

Nick raised an index finger, opened his mouth... and found he had no argument to give. Defeated, he shook his head. "I have the right to remain silent," he said flatly.

"I'm supposed to tell you that," she complained, elbowing him.

He rolled his eyes and let out a _very_ expressive sigh. "They should have you do interrogations," he muttered. "I'd _pay_ any crook who could stand five minutes around you."

By the way Judy stared up at the ceiling in response, it was clear Nick was in trouble. "I may just take that recommendation to Chief Bogo."

"I thought you wanted me in the ZPD? _Speaking of which,_ didn't I come here to compare notes?"

Judy smirked, taking his change of topic as an effort to avoid admitting defeat. "Did you come here for that? Yes. Yes you did."

He pointed one claw at her. "Okay, bunny, there is a fine line between sounding smart and sounding like a smart-aleck. You are definitely way over it."

"All I have to do is sound smarter than you."

"Hardy-har-har. Are we going to keep this up all night?"

"Oh, just make out already!" shouted a voice from the other side of the wall. Apparently one of the antelope neighbors had decided to stick around.

 _That_ threw a bucket of icy water on the repartee. Judy scrunched her eyes tight and stuck out a paw. "Truce?"

Nick shook it. "Truce. And how about we hold this meeting someplace where we _won't_ have color commentary?"

Judy considered a quip about him supplying the color and her supplying the commentary, but decided it would take too long to word it right. Besides, he was right about one thing: if they didn't get down to brass tacks, they really _would_ be up all night.

Then Nick snapped his fingers. "We could text it back and forth," he pointed out.

The tall, rounded ears dropped in confusion, and one of Judy's eyebrows went up as if to take their place. "While we're in the same room?" she asked. To her, the idea of using a phone when face-to-face conversation was doable was totally foreign. Despite the chaos which had been common in her house, her parents had firmly drilled the whole family in the value of sitting down and talking the old-fashioned way.

The fox just smirked, glad to be back on top of the banter. "Hey, 'big city experience.'"

Judy sighed and pulled out her phone. "If someone told me I'd ever do this, I'd have said they were crazy."

"Kind of like bringing a guy to your apart-"

Judy's index finger whipped out, fast and threatening as a duelist's rapier. "You finish that remark, and our friendship is over."

Actually, most of the note comparisons were pretty straightforward; all Judy had to do was let Nick look over her notebook. As for discussion, there really wasn't much to discuss. Judy had been hoping Nick could tell her something about her suspicions, but stock options weren't his strong suit. 'Too much paperwork,' he texted, 'and too easy to trace. I always deal in cash.'

Judy let out a huff through her nose. 'Can you think of anyone who might be able to help?'

Nick tapped his muzzle a few times and texted back, 'I know a few mammals in the stock market. I'll shoot them some texts.'

For all her merits, Judy was not a patient doe. Also, she was a creature of schedules; they had been an inescapable part of her youth. They had to be if one was to maintain any semblance of order in a house with over three hundred young rabbits (as the count had been by the time she left for the academy) running around. So as creative as she was, she now found herself growing fidgety with unexpected time on her paws. There was nothing to do but watch Nick batter away at his phone with his thumbs.

The string of emoticons he sent her now and again didn't help either. The :) was alright, and the ;) was worth a smirk, but when he shot her a ;P she started to get the feeling he was just trolling her.

Nick suppressed a snicker as he watched Judy's foot drum the floor. Pausing from his texts to other parties, he sent another one her way.

'Has anyone ever told you how cute you look when you're impatient?'

Judy felt her face and neck grow hot as she read the message. She took in a breath to reply, then caught herself and texted it instead. 'Has anyone ever told you not to call me cute? Oh yeah – me.'

The fox snickered, wondering if he could make her turn as red as himself. 'I didn't call you cute,' he replied, throwing in a wounded-looking emoticon. 'I just said you look cute.'

'Oh, you're hilarious.'

'You don't like looking cute? Okay, you look funny. Funny funny bunny.' He ducked a pillow and kept right on texting. 'And you throw like a bunny too.'

Judy groaned out loud. "Isn't there someone else you can annoy?" she asked, abandoning texts for the moment.

Nick grinned. 'Good idea. I'll text Taelia.'

By this time, Judy had migrated to her bed. Now she smashed her face into her mattress, having already thrown the pillow at him. "Wake me up when you're done," she groaned, glancing at the clock. She had scheduled for Nick to be around until ten. It was now 8:28. _I am never going to make it,_ she thought.

Nick made a truly infuriating clicking sound. "Aww, is da bunny jeawous?"

Judy lifted her head just long enough to cast him a withering look before letting gravity take her. Nick smirked for about the fiftieth time that night, then looked back at his phone as it chimed. His 'Hi' to Taelia had gotten a reply.

'Hey, just finished some work for the big concert. How are you?'

'Fine,' he replied. 'Working on the case with Officer Hopps. You?'

'Great,' came the quick reply. 'Hey, this is kind of sudden, but can you spare some time tomorrow evening? I could use a favor.'

Frustrated and bored, Judy decided she wasn't going to move until Nick was done goofing around. Unfortunately, her body wasn't exactly on board with the idea; about ten minutes later, she felt the call of nature.

"I'll be right back," she groaned, trudging out the door.

As soon as the door was shut, Nick finished responding to Taelia's message and looked up from his phone. Both as a predator and as one used to being on the wrong side of the law, he always kept an eye on his surroundings – like a certain odd, flat thing sticking out from under Judy's bed. It looked like a sock, but there was something off about it (and besides, Judy didn't wear socks). Glancing at the door, he tiptoed to the bed and knelt to take a look.

 _Oh, wow,_ he thought, a grin covering his muzzle. _This is even better than I thought it would be._ Moving with silent speed, he locked the door. What he was going to do was beyond mean, but 'all work and no play.' Besides, between the stunt she had pulled on him at the traffic stop the day before and the fact that she had twice outfoxed him concerning Taelia that evening, he owed her some reprisal. It was a matter of honor now.

Judy was more than a little annoyed when she got back to her apartment to find it locked. _Well, at least this happened with someone inside,_ she thought, supposing that she'd simply made a mistake. "Uh, Nick?" she called.

"Oh, Carrots!" he exclaimed a little loudly, taking advantage of the building's fantastic acoustics. "I was just admiring your collection. The little gray bunny with the badge is just so _adorable!_ It even looks like you!"

Judy felt her face turn pale. "Nick!" she cried. "Someone's going to hear!"

"Past tense, bunny," came a voice down the hall.

"And the brown one," Nick went on relentlessly. "I never imagined a tough bunny like you collected stuffed-"

Now Judy's face turned red. She grabbed the knob and rattled the door for all she was worth. "Nick Wilde, you let me in and leave my stuff alone – _now!"_

"And oh my gosh, you've even got a _fox_!" Nick cried in delight. "I didn't even know they made stuffed foxes. He smells new. Is he named after me?"

" _Your_ name's going to be _Mud_ when I get in there!" Seeing that the door was getting her nowhere, Judy turned around and leaned hard against it to think. _There's got to be a way in,_ she thought, shoving her paws into her pockets.

Suddenly a way did come to her – and it was so obvious that she felt brilliant and stupid at the same time. Resisting the urge to just storm in and let him have it, she hatched a plan while he cooed over her collector's set of dinosaur puppets from Pizza Hop.

"Nick," she said, sounding both desperate and menacing, "I am telling you right now to get out from under my bed – and don't even _think_ about looking in the dresser!"

Naturally, Nick immediately abandoned the bed and went to the dresser. The little drawers were old and tended to stick, but he got them open. One by one he searched them, only to find... nothing whatsoever of interest; not even in the sock drawer. He hesitated at the underwear drawer, thinking Judy would probably kill him if he went _that_ far.

Behind him, Judy opened the door as quietly as she could, although the noise Nick made as he fiddled with the drawers more than masked it. Stealthily, she crept up on Nick and put her foot down – literally.

"Gah!" Nick yelped, jumping up in the air and grabbing his tail. He spun around before he had even processed what was going on, making for a look which left Judy wishing like crazy for her body-cam.

"Carrots!" Nick yelped, panicking.

Judy just glared up at him as if her lavender eyes were about to turn into death rays.

"Eh heh heh..." Nick laughed nervously, his ears falling back. "Uh, look, you teased me before, so do you think we could just...?"

Judy had to smile just a little, knowing she had him right where he wanted him. _So this is what hunting feels like,_ she thought, grabbing his tie and yanking down so that they were eye to triumphant eye.

"I'm going to count to three."

He was gone before she reached two.

"That fox," Judy groaned, shutting the door and locking it behind him. Heaven only knew how long he would have kept it up if she hadn't had the key in her pocket the whole time. Still, getting him to turn his back completely to the door so she could tailgate him had almost been worth the invasion of her drawers. Almost. Secure once again, she set about tidying up her belongings.

 _If Taelia wants him,_ she thought, _she can_ have _him._ She only half-meant it; deep down Nick was still her friend and she knew it would take more than he was capable of doing to push her past her real limit. Forgiving _this_ stunt, however, was going to take a while.

As she was straightening up, Judy discovered that Nick had forgotten his smartphone. _Figures,_ she thought. _Now I'll have a harder time getting ahold... of him._

Her ears pricked up, and a grin appeared on her face. _Gosh,_ she thought, _if only I could show him how that stunt with my collection felt._

Luck was with her; the phone was unlocked.

 _Helloooo, opportunity,_ she thought.

* * *

In another part of the city, a mammal sat in an office lit only by a single desk lamp, listening as his informant filled him in on the investigation of Olivia Poisson. Forming a steeple with his fingers, his brow creased as he considered the information. _So, the ZPD's on her tail now? How interesting._

Whether Miss Poisson was actually involved with the recent scheme was more than he knew. It would certainly be convenient for him if she did get in trouble with the law, but not yet; not just yet. Guilty or innocent, he needed her on the loose… for the moment. Once he'd gotten what he was after, she could be shot dead for all he cared.

"Keep delaying the investigation," he said tersely, "and wait for further orders."

This worried his informant. Even the mammal's voice was pale. "Hey, if I get caught-"

"You're already caught by _me,_ " came the firm reply. He stabbed one finger down into the table top, somehow putting more impetus into that single digit than most mammals could have given to an entire fist. "I can't make my move just yet. The police are investigating every lead they can find, and it's only a miracle they haven't looked into my past connections with you-know-who. Keep them busy." He hung up and pursed his lips, turning his attention to a schedule of flights out of the country over the next month. He couldn't jump on a plane just yet; too much risk of arousing suspicion. He could prepare, though. He could always prepare.

* * *

 **Oh, snap. Did I just throw an evil mastermind into the mix? Yep, I did, and just when you thought you knew the rules of the game. Ain't I a stinka?**

 **Now I know what a lot of you are thinking about the apartment scene; WildeHopps. Am I going to say one way or the other? No; no I am not. Where's the fun in that? Some of you already know, but please don't say anything. Let the other readers enjoy the suspense. Lol**

 **Keep speculating on where things are headed with this; it really does give me a lot of inspiration. My apologies for the lack of action scenes or major plot developments. I hate to make you all wait, especially you who've read White Legend and gotten used to a cliffhanger in every chapter. Hopefully the new player in the game will whet your appetites for the fireworks to come.**

 **Congratulations to AngloFalcon for guessing the source of Saint Ninian's (and for correcting me on the spelling), and to Benny for figuring out the actor linked to Emmitt Otterton (personally I would love to see – or rather hear – said actor in a Zootopia sequel. A certain other actor associated with him would go well too, especially playing a wolf). A reminder, though: if I ask for a PM, please PM. It's fairly easy to set up an account if you don't have one.**

 **I was actually kind of surprised at how well the Easter Eggs thing seems to have gone; I actually got more views on the last chapter than any other except for chapter one. So there's a couple more in this chapter.**

 **One: what movie did the dinosaurs come from?**

 **Two: Any guesses on where I got the idea for Judy's entry? (it wasn't something that happened to me, but there is a clue in here about the origin)**

 **Happy reading! Don't forget to review, fave, and follow!**


	8. Eight: Checkered Pasts

" **No matter how many times you save the world, it always manages to get back in jeopardy again. I feel like the maid! 'I just cleaned up this mess; can we keep it clean for... for** _ **ten**_ **minutes?!"**

 **Mr. Incredible**

Judy's mood had improved considerably by the time she arrived at Nick's apartment door the following morning. A night's sleep, the prospect of a day making the world a better place, and a couple of hours' worth of devious plotting was always enough to lift her spirits. She even felt sorry enough about having to wake him up before sunrise that when she did, she did it with a cup of coffee in her paw.

"Morning!" she sang cheerfully when he arrived at the door.

Nick, apparently, was in the habit of sleeping in his clothes (much to Judy's relief). His fur was so messy she ached to ask if he'd stuck his tongue in an outlet, and his eyes brought to mind the morning after six of her brothers sneaked out of bed to watch a horror movie marathon. "Someone had better be dying," he mumbled.

She pushed the coffee into his paw. "Had to get up early to get to the precinct, but I figured I'd swing by and return something you forgot last night." Glibly, she held up his phone.

He accepted it like he was afraid it might bite him. It had taken about an hour's frantic search after getting home the night before to come to the realization that she had his phone, and he had been forced to lay awake for some time wondering what she might do with it. "So how much info did you pull off this?" he asked.

The bunny just smirked and folded her arms. "Enough to make us even," she replied, knowing that this would only increase his paranoia. With all the siblings she'd had – especially brothers – and the way that her ambitions of being a cop inspired them to try to put one over on 'Detective Judy,' she might as well have had a doctorate in Prankology before she finished Junior High.

Nick yawned as he checked his social media pages for any embarrassing posts. _Thank goodness she left the shots from the Photobombing Run alone,_ he thought when he found nothing new.

"Oh, and I got those photos you promised me," she added as if reading his mind.

Nick's eyelids dropped to half-mast. "You think you're funny," he told her, "but you're not."

Judy propped a fist on her hip and smirked. "Me, not funny? Let's see, I _know_ you said something about that last night." She rubbed her chin in a show of thinking hard. "What was it again? 'Funny, funny bunny'?"

He rolled his bleary eyes and continued to check for mischief. There was a new outgoing call with a number he didn't recognize. He'd call it once she was gone; no sense letting her know she had gotten to him - again. "I'm going back to bed," he announced.

"Okay, but I may need you later to help investigate someone's apartment. You're good at that, right? Nosing around-"

"Alright, _alright,"_ he surrendered, throwing his paws up. "I was a creep last night. You happy now?"

Judy stowed the recorder pen in her pocket, out of the fox's view. "Very. Sweet dreams."

He frowned as he shut the door and re-called the strange number.

"Viciously Veggie Herbivore Takeout," came the voice at the other end.

Nick stifled a groan and let his head fall back against the door. _Touché, Carrots. Well played._

Judy strolled off, feeling more than a little triumphant – and that was even without taking into account the added contacts now stored in her phone. Those numbers, she was sure, would come in handy sooner or later.

* * *

Things were quiet in the ZPD lobby as Judy strode in sometime later. Most of the night shift hadn't departed yet, and hardly any of the day shift had arrived. Only a handful of officers of assorted species were to be seen, most of whom she didn't know.

The one familiar face in sight was Ben Clawhauser, whose whole figure seemed heavier than usual. His face was downcast, as were his ears (though they were so tiny compared to his head that it was hard to tell). His shoulders hung with a slump, and he gazed forlornly at the spot where a box of doughnuts usually sat. He was so gloomy that his body almost seemed to be absorbing all the light in the immediate area, casting a dim miasma over the front desk.

Judy felt a pang of guilt as she headed in his direction. Okay, so it wasn't like she had _made_ the cheetah bet with Bogo over whether she and Nick were an item, but seeing him so down still bothered her – especially since her big mouth had accelerated his agony. "Hey," she greeted, trotting up to the desk and doing a quick chin-up to the counter. "How's life?"

"Oh, fine," he answered dismally. "Just... thinking."

She didn't have to ask what he was thinking about. "You holding up okay?"

Ben frowned. "Oh yeah - just so long as I don't look at anything round." He was avoiding looking at her; her head reminded him too much of a jelly doughnut. "Are you _sure_ you and Nick are just friends?"

 _Talk about your lose-lose situations,_ she thought. Reminding herself that it would be wrong – and fry her shot at getting Nick into the department – to grant Ben's hopes, she nodded. "Sorry, Ben, but I'm positive. Hey, at least the chief didn't say no eating at all, right?"

"Yeah," he sighed, "but without doughnuts, it's just not the same."

Judy glanced at her watch and judged that if she was quick about handing in the progress report, she should have just enough time for a quick errand before roll call.

She disappeared, and was back in ten minutes. Clawhauser was so busy moping that he didn't notice her arrival until she set down a wax paper package on the counter. "Picked something up for you. It's not a doughnut, but I thought you'd like it."

Ben brightened a little as he opened the package. It was a beetle burger biscuit 'egg-wich' with double cheese. "Aww," he said wistfully. "Well, Judy, any guy would be darn lucky to go out with you."

Judy blushed. _Too bad I'm a career doe,_ she thought. _Maybe in a couple years, but not right now._ "Thanks for the vote of confidence," she replied, heading for the briefing room.

It wasn't even a full minute before Bogo came along. Clawhauser had just finished the sandwich, eating slowly (well, slowly by his standards) to enjoy the flavor and calories.

"Clawhauser," the water buffalo rumbled, "what is that?"

"Uh, a biscuit beetle-burger egg-wich," the cheetah replied nervously. "With cheese, sir." Bogo had been watching him like a hawk to make sure he stuck to the doughnut deal, and caught him trying to sneak sugary treats the previous day. Buzzing him on the intercom mid-snack, showing up in person, and even plucking doughnuts from the cheetah's paws had been so effective, Clawhauser had been too scared to sneak a visit to the doughnut shop before work that morning.

"Mm-hm. Open your mouth." Leaning in towards the cheetah's agape maw, Bogo took a sniff and grimaced. "Alright, but brush your teeth before it gets busy in here."

Ben wilted. "Yes sir."

Roll call in the ZPD played out pretty much as usual. The chief briefed them on a few new updates; reported sightings of suspects here, possible night howler labs there, and so on. He dispatched officers, but strangely said nothing to Judy until the bullpen was otherwise empty. Then he regarded her, pushing his glasses up on his face with one finger. "Hopps, I looked at your progress report. With your track record, I expected something more... substantial."

Judy had to admit – if only to herself – that she felt much the same. However, she put on a bold face and tried not to let her nose twitch as she replied, "I've been establishing contacts all around the city, sir; getting as many eyes out as I can for Ramses and the other suspects."

Bogo's expression didn't lighten. "The last time I gave you two days on a case, you found fifteen missing mammals – one of them before a report had even been filed on his disappearance. Now you've taken two days to _not_ find three sheep wanted for questioning."

Well, when he was right, he was right. Still, it wasn't like the missing mammals had been actively avoiding detection. "Hate to argue, chief, but it _did_ take three months to actually get to the bottom of that case even after I found the missing mammals."

Clearly, Bogo wasn't mollified. "Yes, well, in three months there's no telling _what_ kind of damage these sheep might do. I want them found, Hopps, before they can strike again. That's an order."

Judy nodded. As abrasive as Bogo's manner was, she knew he was right. The city was depending on her, perhaps now more than ever. Just because the immediate crisis was over didn't mean the case was solved. For all she knew, Doug, Jesse, and Walter might try something even more drastic now that the plot to turn the whole city against the predators had failed. "Don't worry, Chief. I'll bring them in."

Bogo's forehead creased as he turned his attention to something on his clipboard. "It's my job to worry, Hopps. Dismissed."

* * *

Judy found Nick already at the front desk. The egg-wich must not have been as effective as she had hoped, because Clawhauser was all but begging Nick to say that he and Judy were a couple. He had gotten so bad that other cops were staring – and several were snickering.

Stepping in, Judy took a spot between the guys. "Ben, I realize this is hard on you, but it's not happening. Nick and I are just friends, and besides, he's got a girlfriend."

Nick lifted his paws and let them drop in frustration. "Carrots, she is _not_ my girlfriend! We crossed paths, chatted a bit, and I gave her a lift home. That's all."

She could have fired off any one of a half-dozen teasing remarks to this, but Clawhauser posed a more immediate concern.

"You mean there's hope?!" asked the cheetah, who hadn't looked so ecstatic since he'd gotten his spot at the front desk back – and been greeted with box upon box of doughnuts. "Oh, _yes!_ I've gotta tell Bogo!"

"Clawhauser!" Judy cried, catching hold of his tail in an effort to stop him. She might as well have tried to stop a runaway train with a fishing rod. Cops all around stared and then began to laugh as the cheetah raced off at a truly surprising speed, with Judy alternately dragging her feet and being whipped outward around corners like a kite unable to quite make liftoff. As they vanished in the direction of the chief's office, one sound rang through the station.

"CLAWHAUSERRRR!"

* * *

It was hard for Nick not to snicker as he rode along to Judy's destination. The bunny was uncharacteristically quiet, her uniform was a bit out of place, her fur was off-kilter (how that was possible at such a short length, he'd never know), and the tight-lipped mouth and furrowed brow couldn't have expressed her displeasure more loudly if they'd been in a close-up on an IMAX screen. Getting a lecture from Bogo, trying (and failing) to corral a crazed cheetah, and fighting to make herself heard over said cheetah had _not_ been her favorite way to start the day.

Of course, Nick _had_ to find some way to make it worse. "You know, you probably should have just waited to discuss it one-on-one with old Buffalo Butt after Benji had blown himself out."

She fumed in response with such intensity, one could almost see smoke coming out of her nostrils. The fact that Nick was probably right didn't help much – and neither, for that matter, did a suspicion in the back of her mind.

"Did you tell Ben that Taelia wasn't your girlfriend just to set him off?" she demanded.

Nick's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped, and a paw flew to his chest in a very dramatic wounded look. "Would I lie about that _just_ to make you chase him down?" His hurt look turned back to a sly grin as she fixed him with one glaring eye. "Well, I didn't. But if I had tried, I couldn't have done- OW!" Judy's fist had lashed out, dealing a solid blow to his arm.

Judy tried to console herself with some banter. "Well, I know it even if you won't admit it, _Junior Detective_ ," she quipped.

He rolled his eyes, massaging the bruised bicep. "Look, I'm sure that in Bunnyburrow, lunch together and a two-block drive means it's time to plan the wedding, but here in the big city we have this thing called casual dating."

"Oh, please," Judy muttered, letting out an exasperated breath. She was too annoyed – particularly with the species-ist quip – to even notice that Nick had just admitted to a lunch date. "Rabbits are _not_ that fast-and-furious about relationships. The only time we plan the wedding _that_ soon is when little girl bunnies want to annoy a big sister – something _I_ haven't done since I was ten."

"So, all of two weeks ago?" teased Nick, hastily dodging another shot to the arm. "Hey, hey, distracted driving, Carrots."

She returned her attention to the road. He considered the possibility that it was time to change subjects.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked, folding his arms behind his head.

"Well, until something else comes up, I thought we should check out the three mutton-keteers' apartments. The police have them marked off for investigation, so with none of your contacts bringing anything in yet, it's probably our best bet."

"What, the forensics lab hasn't checked them out yet?"

She shrugged, feeling a little more at ease now that they were on a business topic. "They did. I want to see if we can find something they missed."

He grinned. "Ah, you're running low on ideas and want to draw on my talents to cover it up. I wonder what Benji would say about that?"

She winced – not because he had zeroed in on the biggest blabbermouth in the department, but because he had just tried to blackmail the _very_ wrong bunny. "Well, I wonder what he – or some _other_ mammals you know – would say about the songs you keep in your phone."

That fox hadn't looked so bleak since she introduced him to the carrot pen. "You wouldn't dare."

She just laughed and started humming, 'Can You Feel the Fluff Tonight.'

He groaned. _I wonder if this is the real reason rabbits used to be on so many mammals' menus,_ he mused.

* * *

They headed to an apartment building in one of the less trafficked areas of Savannah Central, not far from Meadowlands; prime sheep territory. The building – which looked like it might have been designed by the same architect responsible for Judy's place of residence – sat in a cluster of ramshackle structures nestled away among a tangled knot of back streets. Within were two apartments which had once been home, respectively, to Jesse and Doug; Woolter's place was only a block away. The sidewalks were considerably more litter-strewn than most areas of the city, and wrought-iron fences were to be found barring access to nearly every private home in sight. At one or two spots, dark stains adorned walls as if someone had tagged them not with paint, but with black dye shot out of a squirt gun.

"What _are_ those?" asked Judy, wrinkling her nose as they walked past one such spot on their approach to the apartment complex. The smell was like cigarettes steeped in swamp water.

"Tobacco juice," Nick replied calmly. "Some of the... less classy mammals around like to do it – and since it's technically not graffiti to spit on a wall, they can do it all they want as a way to leave their mark."

While Judy scowled at the idea, Nick continued to survey the building in front of them. By his assessment, the place was beneath the notice of most upstanding citizens, yet no more than five minutes from some of the city's most metropolitan areas; maybe two minutes if one would chance the back alleys on foot. Not only that, but the tall buildings nearby would let someone survey a massive chunk of the city. He related these thoughts to Judy, asserting that it would be an ideal place to pick out a target and radio their location to someone like Doug.

She stared at him a little uneasily, ears dipping and nose twitching. "Do you think like that _all_ the time?" she asked.

He coughed. "No... but I _may_ have talked with some hit-"

" _La_ la la," she cut him off, singing off-key. "Don't tell me. I _might_ have to testify later."

The fox coughed. Judy's wariness – while sensible – reminded him again of his many friends on the wrong side of the law. He pushed the thought away. "Right," he replied. "Let's go."

The two of them paused at the door to Doug's apartment to put on rubber gloves, and Judy let them in with a key supplied for the investigation. She also handed Nick a folder full of photos which, she explained, showed the apartment before anything had been seized as evidence. Then she picked a corner and leaned against the wall to watch him do his thing.

Nick searched, comparing what he saw against the photos. Doug's computer was gone, along with several pieces of chemistry equipment and most of the kitchen items as well. A bookshelf was largely undisturbed, although the phone book had been removed – no doubt in search of circled numbers.

He jerked a thumb at the bookshelf. "See if there's anything in those books; you know, like notes, a business card used as a bookmark - that kind of thing. It happens, trust me. Oh, and look for pinholes in the pages. Sometimes they mean something."

She made for the shelf. "I didn't know about the pinhole thing," she admitted. "Do a lot of crooks use that?"

"To my knowledge, mostly pirates," he admitted, devoting his eyes to his own search. "I read about it in a book on hidden treasure when I was a cub, but you never know."

Judy set to it, glad to have something to do. She thumbed through several books on chemistry, all of which were college or post-grad level. Most of the material was gobbledygook to her; the knowledge cops needed when it came to chemistry had more to do with figuring out when someone was running a drug lab or concocting home-made poisons, not distilling ornamentals. So far, the use of night howlers in the recent case was unique, and thankfully the plants were not in use for recreational drugs either – not unless one counted the 'romantic effects' of Poisson's products, anyway – so there wasn't much common ground. The books on botany and horticulture were, at least, more to her liking. She had a good working knowledge of both, and several of the books were thoroughly illustrated with impressive diagrams and blueprints. Some of them she had even seen _in situ_ on her family's farm, and one or two of the designs struck her as worth remembering when she next spoke with her parents. _Who knew my police work might benefit their farming?_ she mused, enjoying the irony.

Unfortunately, none of the books yielded any discernible clues to Doug's location. Nick also struck out after hours of scouring, so after a brief lunch break at a nearby diner, they moved on to Jesse's apartment on the next floor. This time, opening the door met them with a scene of veritable chaos.

"How could someone be so messy with so little stuff?" Judy wondered aloud. Looking through the photos of the place had done little to prepare her for its disastrous state, which looked like a whole family of tornadoes might have come there to die. It was a one-room apartment like Judy's, with few items fit to call 'belongings'; a doorless closet with maybe three shirts hung up and a mess of other clothes on the floor, a ratty-looking TV, and a haphazard shelf of videos and DVDs – with most of the items in question actually stacked in odd places around the apartment. A sheetless bed sported a couple of blankets, and the pillow was over by the DVD shelf, evidently having been used as a weapon against the alarm clock. Yet for the overall lack of actual possessions, the place was all but bursting with a hoard of cans, newspapers, magazines, and takeout containers empty except for a few bits and pieces of now-inedible vegetation. Posters of female mammals her mother would have screamed at hung so haphazardly on the walls that they must have been sloppy on purpose. To top it off, the room reeked of liniment and one or two odors Judy didn't recognize – which, she suspected, just went to show that ignorance really was bliss.

Nick walked in like he owned the place. Glancing over his shoulder at Judy, he remarked, "You can wait outside if you want." Evidently he had sensed her unease.

She frowned, not sure if Nick was making the offer to spare her the ordeal or needle her like he had the last time he made such an offer. Part of her was tempted to accept; she was pretty sure all of her hundred-plus brothers wouldn't have made this much of a mess if they had a whole month. For that matter, while the posters weren't _quite_ as bad as what she'd seen on her first case (if only for lack of depth), some of them were pretty raunchy. On the other paw, she figured she'd have to get used to dumps like this if she was going to make a career out of investigating criminals. "Can't do it," she replied, covering her discomfort with a glib smirk she'd learned from Nick. "Technically, you're not a cop. I can't leave you unsupervised, _Junior Detective._ "

"Ha, ha, and also ha," Nick retorted sarcastically, and he began sifting through the junk on the floor.

"What are you looking for?" asked Judy, hoping she could help. She had a few ideas; mail and receipts would be key in this case, since they might yield clues as to places where the conspirators had held meetings or bought equipment and supplies. The sheep had been difficult when it came to information (and their lawyers had been even more so), but from what the ZPD had gathered, Jesse had done much of the running and fetching. That said, Nick had one thing she lacked: a paws-on knowledge of the criminal mind. A single hint from him would probably be worth at least a chapter of the reading she had done at the academy.

The fox shrugged. "Mail, receipts, junk like that. Anything to tell us his favorite hangouts or shopping places."

Judy rolled her eyes heavenward with a beleaguered sigh. _Then again, maybe not._

Looking around, her gaze fell on a small container that was shaped like a laboratory vial or beaker, but made of metal. Curious, she picked it up and unscrewed the cap.

" _Eeee-ugh!"_ With a disgusted cry, she threw it across the room. A green, foul-smelling liquid flew out of the beaker, scattering along its course. Judy started gagging, fighting with all her might to keep from throwing up.

"Carrots, what the- gack!" Nick got a whiff of the stuff too, and instantly looked ill. Holding his nose with one paw, he wrapped the other around Judy, who seemed to have gone dizzy from the stink. He half-walked, half-dragged her to the door, shutting it behind them with a loud 'bang.'

Free of the repulsive odor, the bunny started to recover. "Oh, what _was_ that?! One of Doug's experiments? It smelled like essence of skunk!"

Nick coughed a little. "Trust me, Carrots, skunk spray is worse... a little." It sounded as though he spoke from experience. "I think you found some Wheat-Grass Whiskey."

"Some _what_?" Judy had never heard of the stuff.

"Booze," Nick replied more simply. "It's the alcoholic answer to Limburger; worst-smelling stuff on the market, and it tastes even lousier than that."

She made a face. "You've tried it before?"

He answered reluctantly. "Once... in high school. Someone bet me fifty dollars I couldn't hold it in my mouth for ten seconds."

"And you went through with it?"

"Let's just say I'm the only guy I know who's ever spent fifty bucks all on mouthwash in one go – and my girlfriend still dumped me when she got a whiff of my breath the next day."

Judy winced, then thought of something. She opened her mouth to speak...

"And no questions about my love life, please."

She frowned. "I was going to say that if we ever went to schools to do those 'don't do drugs' talks, you should tell that story."

He sighed. "You are hopeless," he muttered.

The bunny cop rose to her feet, rubbing her nose as if to clear away the last vestiges of the smell. "The landlord is already ticked that he can't rent out the apartment until our investigation is closed. He's going to have a fit over that mess."

This was met with a shrug from the fox. "Well, at least we've got a clue."

"We do?"

"Yep. Very few mammals – even prey – have a taste for that stuff, so not many places sell it. That means if we check out those places, we might find a lead to our ram."

Judy thought about that. "Got anything more helpful?"

The smirk she got in reply said it all. "Do I have an address?" asked Nick, holding up a matchbook. "Yes. Yes I do."

Judy regarded the matchbook. "Cloven Hoof Bar," she read off the front. "Yeah, one of the main watering holes for sheep and goats. We checked it out. Bogo's got our IT guys watching the traffic cams around it for any sign of the sheep we want. Nothing so far, and we don't have enough evidence to get a warrant."

Nick laughed. "Ah, my dear, naïve little bunny," he chided. "Who said anything about a warrant?"

She grinned, feeling good enough to ignore the 'naive' remark. "Let me guess. You have a friend who can get in unnoticed?"

"I know everyone," Nick replied glibly. Then, more thoughtfully, he added, "But I can think of one guy in particular who- oh." He pulled out his phone as it buzzed in his pocket, pressed a button, and frowned. "Aw, fudge," he uttered.

"What's wrong?" asked Judy, trying to get a look.

Nick quickly covered the phone with his free paw. "Well, I, um... I made some plans for today because I didn't think you would need me this long, and I, um... I kind of made plans," he finished weakly, closing the screen and pocketing the phone.

Judy scrunched her face in confusion. "Plans? What kind of plans?"

Had it been anyone but Judy, Nick would have enjoyed the irony. "Well, you remember a certain vixen I texted last night when you wanted me to annoy someone else for a change?"

It took even Judy a moment to find words for that. "Oh, sweet cheese and crackers," she muttered. She knew in the back of her head that she'd laugh about that bit of backfiring later, but at the moment it was a little too annoying for that.

Nick pulled out his phone again. "I guess I'll have to tell her something came up, and-"

"No, don't do that," she interrupted, putting both paws on his arm. "If you said you'd do it, then do it. I'll wrap up here."

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking at her uncertainly.

She let go, waving one paw. "Yeah, I'll take care of things here. Have a good time." Then as she watched him go, her more spirited side rebounded a little and she decided to get in one parting dig. "Just don't forget your deodorant, okay Junior?"

"Ha ha, very funny," he called back, pausing to double-check as soon as he was sure he was alone.

As he was on his way to a takeout place en route to Taelia's, Nick started dialing to call his order ahead. Before he could finish, though, another call came in. He recognized the number. "Hey Taelia," he greeted. "What's up?"

"Hi Nick. Are we still on for tonight?"

He shrugged. "Last I checked. I should be there in about forty-five minutes. Why, did something come up?"

"No. More the opposite, actually. I was wondering, would you be up for something besides just watching the show?"

Nick puzzled over this, hampered by the fact that when he had agreed to the date he'd also been contending with other texts and waiting for Judy to leave her apartment unguarded. "Depends, I guess."

"Well, I'll let Xavier explain. He likes to do the talking, and I have to hurry and get ready – but I told him you were coming and we think you might be helpful for our latest project."

He stopped. _Interesting remark. Slightly sinister,_ he thought. _Last time I heard that I ended up getting shot at._ He did his best not to sound uneasy. "Guess we'll find out."

 **Thanks for the support, everyone. I'm sorry this took so long to write as I try to prepare my house for winter, but it's been a blast putting together Nick's and Judy's parts. I don't think I've had this much fun with any two characters in years (Bogo and Clawhauser are fun too). I also think this is my longest chapter yet, and hopefully the next will follow fairly soon since I have it pretty well planned out. So what do you think is ahead for Nick: a dream date, or a nightmare?**

 **I have a confession to make about the love triangle remarks I made previously; this "love triangle," like the movie itself, is about way more than just Nick's love life – although, as you can see, that will be coming up. My main point is that Nick is ultimately struggling between self-love and others-centered love; whether he'll continue on his new course or go back to his old ways of living. How Judy and Taelia - and Vanya, for that matter - will impact that... well, that remains to be seen. ;)**

 **I also noticed that the previous chapter states that Judy doesn't wear socks, but later adds that she has a sock drawer. I thought about that, and I'm thinking she probably does** _ **have**_ **socks for such cases as require closed-toed shoes (anytime, say, that she's expecting to be in the cold for a prolonged time) but – like most mammals – prefers to go barefoot. Not saying that will figure into the story, not saying it won't. Just a thought.**

 **My thanks to everyone for the continued attention. I now have fifteen faves and twenty-eight followers. I know that's pretty small for a Zootopia fanfic, but since this is my first one and my first police story since Love Never Lies (which kind of crashed), I'm glad for whatever interest it gets.**


	9. Nine: Music to my Pointed Ears

**"(I have no) data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts."**

 **Sherlock Holmes,** _ **A Scandal in Bohemia**_ **by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle**

 **EASTER EGGS AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER. PLEASE READ THE NOTE.**

The loud drone of a hairdryer competed with a playlist from Taelia's impressive collection of music as the vixen finished ridding herself of moisture after a shower. Draped with a towel, she shook her head to enjoy the remaining heat before setting to work on her preparations. Meanwhile, an upbeat female voice rang out from her iPaw's speakers, chiming a song about not admitting to being in love.

Humming along, she reached into the medicine cabinet, where she kept a few little squirt bottles like one might use for nasal spray. These bottles weren't for nasal spray, though, but perfume.

 _Now, which one?_ she mused. _Oranges?_ Then she shook her head. _Think I'll try this one; haven't used it in a while_. Uncapping the chosen bottle, she stuck it into the fur of her neck just beside her windpipe. A light squeeze on the bottle deposited a squirt of liquid against her skin, and before she had even reached the other side of her neck the scent of gingerbread and vanilla reached her nostrils. She took an appreciative sniff and smiled. Citrus was good for most purposes, but she liked gingerbread and the vanilla would help her relax. Some mammals kept scents in spray bottles, but she preferred these. They might use it up a little faster, but she liked that the squirt bottles could deliver the liquid directly to the skin, there to be activated and spread by body heat. Besides, the sprays didn't stick long enough for her liking.

Having taken care of that little ritual, she set about brushing her fur. As usual, she groomed the fluff on her body more for shape than looks, since the main thing there was to have it sit comfortably when she had it covered up. She did experiment a little with the fur on her head, though, before sticking to the usual.

 _A little brushing, a little combing, just a touch of fur spray, and... there._ She studied herself. She looked about the same as she usually did, but the spray had given her coat just a little extra shine. It wouldn't be soft and silky, but she figured Nick would be keeping his paws to himself anyway. She got the impression he wasn't the pawsy type, which was just as well on the first or second date for her liking.

Trading the towel for a bath robe, she picked up her music player and headed into her bedroom. The apartment was a decent size for a fox den; not that different in floor space from Judy's, although a different layout and lower ceilings made it feel like a bigger area. There was a sort of common room that doubled as a kitchen and a living room, which made an ideal setup for someone who liked to experiment with food on a whim. Then there was the bathroom and, at the back, the aforementioned bedroom. A bunk bed tucked into a corner to her left had been converted into a bed below and a mini-office of sorts up top. There, an older-model computer sat amid CD racks and an old but serviceable tape player, all arranged around a camping mat so she could lie down on her stomach as she worked. It was really designed for the young of larger species, but it worked well for a grown vixen. Besides, it had been at a tag sale, and there was no beating those prices.

That, of course, was immaterial to her at the moment. Just then she had one thing on her mind: getting dressed for her date. In the back corner, next to her exercise bike – another garage sale find – she kept a rustic-built wardrobe. Made of apple wood with a mirror inside the door, it had been a graduation present from her older brother (Mom, Dad, and an uncle had teamed up to refurbish the car, which was used but very practical). She had admired good craftwork for years, but never imagined that her brother – a factory worker – would scrape together enough for something so fancy. She had all but begged him to take it back and give her something less expensive, but he and his wife had resorted to blackmail; they said they'd be very hurt if she didn't take it. Now it made her smile... at least until she opened the door, stopped and stared, and let out a despairing groan.

 _I forgot to do the laundry!_ In a flash it all came back to her. Earlier that day she had tried a new recipe, got distracted, and produced an accident which was _really_ best forgotten. That and her efforts to recover the catastrophe had thrown her so far off track that the laundromat escaped her completely.

 _Nice, Taelia,_ she thought to herself as her eyes turned to the full hamper at the foot of her bed. With a sigh, she plunked her forehead into an uplifted paw. _Just go and get stupid over a guy... again._ That was, it was true, a little unfair; this particular snafu had not involved Nick or any other male, though a good many other mistakes of hers certainly had.

She sighed and looked over the limited options in front of her. The dresses would generally be bad picks, as they fell into two categories. Some were too formal, loose, and long enough to be cumbersome if she had to crawl around under her band's sound equipment. Others were too party-oriented to really work for an occasion like this, and some of these were short enough to be too pushy for her taste on a first date. All in all, none of them were really practical for band practice.

There were only two shirts to speak of. One was what she called her 'damsel in distressed' shirt: a grungy, perforated top which she reserved for cleaning, painting, and other maintenance jobs. Normally that would have been fine for band practice, especially with some well-worn jeans, but not with Nick in the picture. _Okay, door number two it is,_ she thought, pushing that one aside for the other. The second option was in pretty good shape; a gray T-shirt she had gotten as a birthday present from her sister-in-law. Printed on the front was the slogan, 'Things To Do Today: 1. Wake Up. 2. Survive. 3. Go Back to Bed.' In her present mood the slogan felt more like a cry for help than she liked, but she did have limited options. She chose that one with some reluctance, scanning the rest of the closet to decide what might go with it.

 _Let's see. If I could just find a pair of pants and maybe a jacket that went well together... yeah, these should do._ She selected the items; both a shade of blue a little on the light side. They went well together, and gray went with pretty much anything. Better still, if she buttoned the jacket up enough of the way she could cover most of the slogan on the shirt so it would look more ordinary. _Just leave the top three buttons and fold the jacket open... there; casual, but covered._ The jacket and pants didn't quite match, but she doubted anyone would notice; particularly that Nick would. It had been her experience that guys tended to notice color a lot less than girls. Their brains were wired more geometrically – or, as many tods she had known proved, _bio_ metrically. She stuck out her tongue at the memory, then shook her head as if to shake it away like an insect on her ear.

Having put herself together, she studied the effect in the mirror. It wasn't overly dressy, but it didn't look slap-dash either. _I guess it'll do,_ she thought. A quick roundup of her to-go items staged on the bedside table, and she could go wait in the living room. Slipping on her watch and a bracelet or two, she grabbed a bottle of pomegranate juice from the fridge. Then she grabbed a second in case Nick wanted some, giggling at the memory of the previous day's beverage escapade. _I hope he skips the hot sauce this time,_ she thought with a smile.

While this was going on, she'd had her iPaw playing a selection of love songs of one kind or another. At the moment she came back to really noticing the background music, it was closing out a song called 'The Words I Would Say.' She smiled; that one was more a song she had put in the list because of her dad and the advice he had given her after her first bad breakup. Picking up the device, she skipped back to the start of the song; a mellow intro about someone writing a letter of encouragement. She leaned against the wall and lip-synched a refrain, though it was a bit religiously minded for her taste; remarks of divine guidance and assurance, and of strength coming from the same. For all that, it was her dad in a nutshell. From the case of nerves she got going to school on the day of an oral report to their last hug parting ways at college graduation, he had always told her not to be afraid. 'Just find your courage, grit your teeth, and plunge ahead,' he always told her. 'Remember, you're never alone.' She could practically still feel his muzzle from all the times he had kissed her forehead as he said it. She glanced over at a cluster of framed photos on a small table in the living room. One in particular was of the old reynard, his trademark warm smile emanating from behind the glass with all the encouragement a vixen could want.

"Thanks," she whispered.

The music went through a couple of other songs before a knock came at the door. _That must be Nick,_ she thought. "Just a minute!" She sniffed and decided the scent from her failed experiment had dissipated enough, so she turned off the fans in the windows: in on one side of the room, out on the other. Then she cast a final glance around to make sure everything was in order, which it was. Nick had mentioned the night before that he'd be bringing takeout, so she had gotten the place cleaned up, figuring they could eat there before going.

She opened the door. "Hey," she smiled.

He grinned, holding up a paper bag and some white paper boxes with wire hangers. "Hey yourself," he replied. He was dressed much as she had seen him the day before, though with a more toned-down shirt. This one was two shades of blue, with sailboats and dolphins visible if one looked closely enough.

She stepped aside. "Come on in. There should be enough time to eat before we go to practice."

As Nick stepped inside, the iPaw changed songs again.

 _I can see what's happening._

 _What?_

 _And they don't have a clue!_

 _Who?_

He stopped, an odd look coming over his face as the ditty continued. "Uh, did someone tell you to have that song playing?" he asked.

She frowned, turning off the music. She liked the song, of course, but decided not to push the mood too much. 'Getting to Know You' would have been better at the moment. "No, I just had it on shuffle. Why?"

Nick shook his head. _That darn bunny's got me every way I turn,_ he thought. "Eh, I'll tell you some other time. You like Boariental?"

She smiled, partly because of him and partly because of the scent of shrimp coming from one of the boxes. "Why, do you have ancestors in the East?"

He huffed out a chuckle. It wasn't the best banter he'd ever heard, but it was worth that much. "I was talking about the food, but yeah, I think I might."

Taelia cocked her head. "Really? Hm; who knew?"

* * *

The dinner was a pleasant business as the two chatted over shrimp, noodles, and dumplings. Nick got the chance to show off his chopstick skills, but pushed it too far when he tried using the bamboo utensils to flick a dumpling into the air and catch it in his mouth. Taelia almost snorted a noodle out her nose when the morsel in question landed dead between his eyes instead.

"Uh, would you believe that was part of the trick?" he asked, using a napkin to pick the dumpling off his face.

She smirked and folded her arms. "Do I look like I was born yesterday?"

"As a matter of fact, I think you look very intelligent," he replied, cleaning up his face with another napkin. He glanced around, sighted the garbage bin, and considered landing a three-pointer. He decided to go the old-fashioned route and just get up, since clowning around had already left him with egg – or dumpling in this case – on his face once.

Taelia kept an eye on him, appraising his actions, his demeanor, and his words. She could easily believe he had worked in sales. His collected manner exuded charm and confidence, which she knew quite well to be vital in the persuasive art of marketing. At the same time, he clearly had a playful side which interested her a good deal more than his professionalism. She had known a consummate professional once, and he had been rather dull all around as well as a pretty convincing liar. Taelia had decided after that that there was simply no sense in entertaining a guy who didn't have a sense of humor, but it was clear Nick had _that_ requirement more than covered.

They finished the takeout and juice in plenty of time to head out to the meeting.

"Just out of curiosity," Nick ventured as they passed by Taelia's car, "how did you end up with a car that big?"

She shrugged. "Well, it was from Ellen, actually – you'll meet her tonight – back when I started college. She had gotten a new car as a present, I needed to get around, and it was pretty easy to set this one up for someone my size, so she gave me a good deal on it." Due to the range of animal sizes in Zootopia, it wasn't unusual for larger cars to be outfitted with systems that let smaller mammals use them. The lower chances of getting run over by bigger vehicles were an added advantage, and that was often enough to win over customers even when a smaller vehicle cost less.

Nick put a paw to his chin. "So you went to college. What'd you major in?"

"Music. Minored in computer science."

 _Hmm, Hindsteinette._ "Nice."

"Thanks. What about you?"

Nick decided to shift the focus away from that question. He had read up more on marketing than most mammals he knew with degrees, but the truth was that he'd basically bought his bachelor's. "I studied marketing and finance," he replied, stretching the truth. "So are you going to tell me what this project's about?"

She smiled and made a show of thinking, then shook her head. "No, I think I'll keep you guessing."

"How about a hint?"

"Hmm, no."

"Not even a little bitty hint?" His pleading voice was subtle enough that Judy would have been impressed, yet wheedling enough to put Clawhauser to shame.

Taelia smiled. _He's good,_ she thought. "No, but keep trying. It's fun to watch."

Nick huffed in mock annoyance. _If she and Judy ever teamed up,_ he thought, _the ZPAcademy might_ _have to pin my badge onto a straightjacket._ "Well, what about telling me some about your friends, then?"

She glanced at him curiously. "What's the hurry? You'll be meeting them in a few minutes."

 _Yeah, and I'm worried that some of them might actually know me,_ he thought. He chose his words carefully, weighing how to approach the matter without betraying his motive. Experience told him that a 'vulnerable guy' schtick was the way to go; much like the one he had applied to Judy in Jumbeaux's ice cream shop. "Well, I have this problem with meeting strangers – in groups, I mean," he clarified, spreading his paws disarmingly when she raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I don't know how, but I just have this knack for finding mammals' red buttons. So just in case that happens, I prefer to know if there's... oh, I don't know, a joke I should stay away from or some subject I shouldn't bring up... you know, the little stuff."

Taelia thought about that, and she could certainly empathize with worries about stepping into a social hole. "Well, my friends are pretty easygoing, especially if someone shows up with me. I _guess_ I should warn you not to stereotype Vicky, though, or joke about her beads."

"She wears a lot of them, I take it."

She shrugged. "Yeah, a lot of mammals think she's some kind of hippie."

"Right. Um, what species is she?"

"Hyena."

"Ah." Nick had met his share of hyenas, and knew better than most just how risky it was to get on their bad sides. "Don't stereotype the hyena. Got it." He ran a mental check. As far as he could recall, he'd never done 'business' with anyone matching the description, although chances were he had sold her a pawpsicle or two at some point. "Anything else?"

They continued in this manner as they made their way into more residential areas. In the process, Nick learned that the Xavier of whom Taelia had spoken earlier was a gray wolf and the only guy in the band. He took a pretty dim view of 'locker room' jokes about that arrangement, or any negative remarks about the military. Also, he and his wife Isabelle _really_ didn't like to be asked why they had no children. Taelia's tone was pretty dour as she mentioned this detail, leading Nick to guess it was a medical thing. Nicole – a red wolf – only got really mad if she saw someone being picked on.

"And then there's Ellen," Taelia concluded. "She doesn't have a red button, really, but I should warn you about her. She grew up on Outback Island, and most of her friends were kangaroos, so she's a little..."

Nick guessed she was trying to sidestep an obvious joke, and decided to just fill it in. "Jumpy?"

She snorted and flicked back her ears. "Yeah, that joke gets around. She's energetic. You get used to it. There's not much need to watch your step with her, but don't take any coffee she offers you." Giggling, she added, "At least if you plan on sleeping in the next forty-eight hours."

 _Sounds like she could get a side job with the ZPD,_ thought Nick. _She and Clawhauser would get along just fine._ He mulled over the names and descriptions, and although the lack of surnames made it hard to be sure, he couldn't think of anyone he knew all that well matching what Taelia described. He'd probably recognize their faces. He was better with those than names, and in his previous line of work he had seen most of the faces in the city.

 _Not Taelia's, though,_ he thought to himself, checking her out on the sly. _I'd remember._

She was looking too, and she definitely liked what she saw. Clean-cut features, green eyes – she liked green eyes – and a nice jawline framing his face. He was a little on the skinny side, but most foxes were. Besides, if he was going to be a cop he'd probably fill out some. _Nice guy_ and _nice looks,_ she thought to herself. _Face it, Taelia. You just hit the jackpot._

She mentally shook her head. _'Whoa, girl,'_ her annoyingly familiar voice of reason told her. Most mammals had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other; she had an introvert and an extrovert, and right now the introvert was giving her a lecture. _'Don't get your head in the clouds just yet. Don't forget -'_

 _'Hey, hey, hey!'_ argued her inner extrovert. _'Cut it out, Queen Killjoy. There's no sense in returning to the past now. Move on to tomorrow already.'_

Mercifully, the argument was cut short by their arrival at Xavier and Isabelle's house. As they walked in, Nick noted the name 'Moonbeamer' on the mailbox and was a little more relaxed when it didn't ring any bells.

Inside, the house was pleasant enough. The walls were a hue just a few shades lighter than pine green – more deep than dark – with a curious texture of very thin lines which showed a white underlayer and reminded one of wood grain. Immediately inside the front door were two staircases: on the right, one led down to a T with a doorway to the right of that and a hallway to the left about which Nick could tell nothing just at the moment. To the left of the front door, a shorter flight of stairs led up – most likely, he guessed, to a living room. He could hear chatter from up there.

"Hey everyone," Taelia called.

"Hey, Taelia!" exclaimed a voice which was definitely female. Whoever it was sounded as if she'd been waiting for the vixen like a coiled spring waiting to pop loose. "Who did you-?"

The voice stopped as a female dingo, sandy in color, appeared at the top of the stairs. Wearing a pair of black knee-length yoga pants and a sleeveless blue shirt, she looked like she might have jogged to practice just because she could. Her ears shot up when she saw Nick, and she whipped her head to her right towards someone out of Nick's view.

"Xavier, you didn't tell us Taelia's friend was a guy!"

A male voice laughed from the room above. "That's because I wanted you to save your voice for practice. You two, come on up. We can socialize a bit before we get rolling."

Along one side of the stairs, a set of smaller steps had been set down over the top of them as an evident courtesy to smaller visitors. Taelia followed these, the height difference making the bounce in her strides more evident. Nick followed, not sure how to feel about it when Ellen leaned over and remarked to Taelia, "Nice find. He's cute."

The vixen raised an index finger in warning. "Remember, _I_ saw him first." She glanced over her shoulder at Nick and shrugged helplessly.

As Nick ascended the stairs, he casually noticed an array of photos prominently featuring a dark-furred wolf engaged in an array of activities. Between the military uniform in one and the numerous manual jobs seen in many of the rest - along with an eye patch - he surmised that the canine in question was a veteran. There was little time to ponder that, however, for at the top of the stairs, Nick found himself facing just the assortment of mammals Taelia had described. They were seated in an assortment of recliners around a modest living room, and at a glance all looked reasonably approachable. Nicole wore white slack shorts and a pink top, and her fur was on the long side for a red wolf. With the right fur coloring she could be mistaken for an oversized vixen, albeit her legs were a bit longer than Taelia's compared with the rest of her body. She smiled when Nick's eyes passed her way in a quick scan of the crew, and her right paw lifted in a suggestion of a wave.

Vicky was wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans, and the longer fur on top of her head was adorned with sky blue and light green beads. Typically of her species, she was a bit more muscular than the other females in the room; however, the obvious differences made her gender clear enough. She regarded Nick's presence in a pretty neutral manner, evidently reserving any overtures – positive or negative – until he made an impression. Nick, for his part, did a slight double-take at her. He could swear he didn't know her, but there was _something_ familiar about the hyena. The fact that he couldn't place it made him nervous; loose ends had caused him trouble more times than he cared to remember.

As for Isabelle and Xavier, he could have guessed they were married just picking them out of a crowd. They wore matching blue jeans – not quite distressed, but worn some at the knees – and rather form-fitting red shirts. At first glance Xavier might have passed for the veteran in the photos on the stairwell. The absence of an eye patch and greater presence of gray in his fur, however, marked him as most likely being the cub in several of those pictures. _Must be the old vet's son,_ Nick surmised. Isabelle – a light gray she-wolf – considered Nick with a rather skeptical look. It reminded him of the reception he'd gotten from his would-be senior prom date's parents back in high school (would-be because said girlfriend broke up with him two days before the prom over the Booze Breath Incident).

Xavier, on the other paw, rose and greeted Nick with a grin made all the brighter by the contrast of his well-kept teeth against his very dark gray fur. "You must be Nick." In customary big-to-small etiquette, he crouched just a little when he got close. He would have had to sit on the floor to get eye-to-eye, but he generated a slightly less imposing image anyway when he stuck out a paw. "Taelia's told us some interesting things about you."

Nick half-coughed and shook the offered paw, which clasped his with a firm, confident grip. "Does she tell you about every guy she dates, or am I a special case?"

Xavier shrugged. "Well most guys she's dated haven't been to our band practices, so I guess you're a special case. Speaking of which, she says you've got friends in the ZPD, including Judy Hopps."

This was the moment Nick had been bracing for. "A few, I guess," he answered with a shrug, as if being friends with cops were the most normal thing in the world to talk about. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, that's great!" cheered Ellen before Xavier could explain. "We're getting ready for a-"

"Ellen," Isabelle cut her off, "was he asking you?"

Xavier just laughed. "I'm used to it. Ellen, the floor is yours – calmly, please."

The dingo took a deep breath, then launched into her explanation. "Well, maybe you already know this, but there's a benefit concert in a couple of weeks to help the mammals who were hurt in the Night Howler Incident."

"Helping cover medical costs and such," Xavier interjected.

"Yeah, yeah," Ellen went on eagerly. "Anyway, we're going to be in it, and we want our part to be a special tribute to the city's first responders – including the ZPD!"

Nick had noticed the posters and odd news article, though since he was no longer selling miscellaneous goods he had just skimmed them over. Now he was starting to get the picture, and he couldn't have been more relieved. "So you want an insider's opinion on your stuff to see if they'd like it."

"Exactly," Xavier confirmed, nodding crisply. "We're also planning a CD specially for the occasion."

"Probably gonna have to stick to pre-orders," Vicky pointed out.

Xavier nodded. "Most likely, but that's all the more reason to make it the best we can."

Nick wasn't sure how or if he should tell them that he pretty much never talked music with anyone in the ZPD. The truth was that outside of Judy, Ben, and Bogo, he hadn't talked much with anyone in the precinct. He knew Ben was gaga for Gazelle, but then anyone who had seen his desk could figure that out. Outside of that knowledge and the hunch that Judy was probably also a fan, he couldn't think of much of anything that would be any use to them.

Reminding himself that he was dealing with honest mammals, he shrugged. "Well, I don't know much about anyone's musical tastes at the precinct."

"Anything you've got is more than what we've got," Vicky put in. "None of us know _any_ cops, and _you_ know the one who was in the thick of it." Folding her arms, she added, "Even if she did make a wreck of it at the start."

Nick was about to speak up on his friend's behalf, but Nicole beat him to it. "Come on, Vick. It was the only idea they had at the time. For all they knew it _could_ have been biological, and she's apologized for it at least a dozen times now."

Actually, Judy had only made half a dozen public apologies, albeit much-circulated. Never the less, Nick instantly decided he liked Nicole. It was nice to find someone so forgiving, and all the more so in species that were used to getting more respect.

"Nicole's right," Xavier agreed. "And so is Vicky – about information, that is." He looked at Nick. "I know it's a stretch, but we'd really appreciate anything you can think of."

Nick only needed a minute to think it over. "Well, what have you got so far?"

Xavier rose to his feet. "How about you come down to the basement and find out?"

* * *

Music critic that he wasn't, Nick soon recognized that _Vixen_ was an impressive band. Although Nicole was generally the female lead, the other ladies swapped in on some songs depending on who had the best voice for it. Xavier, who as it turned out was effectively the manager, was a true _virtuoso_ in the voice department as well. With him in their roster, the band needed no other male singers, as he could alter his tone clear across a range all the way from baritone to tenor. He even did a decent impression of Elkvis, one of the few musicians of whom Nick could truly claim to be a fan.

While the fox had little input to offer on the music itself, he found the lyrics much easier to assess. So far it sounded like the band already had a good lineup of songs: a very intense number called 'Hero', another less harshly-voiced one called 'Warriors,' some songs called 'Courage' and 'Ignite' which emphasized lyrics by Ellen, and a range of others. Nick was able to offer some advice here and there. For one thing, he ultimately resolved a split among them over whether to include 'Monster'. As much as he could see the connection with the whole thing about going savage, it struck him that the lyrics might cut a little too close to the bone for some of the darted mammals, should they decide to show up for the event. His biggest impact, though, came when Ellen dropped some notes. In helping to gather them up, he struck gold.

"Hey, what's this one?" he asked, catching a glimpse of something on one of the sheets. His eyes had taken in the phrase, 'Friend or foe? Before you know, let their actions speak.'

Ellen glanced at it passively. "Oh, that's just something I freelanced for a cartoon show. It's nothing." She reached out a paw to take it, but he hastily held one up to hold her back.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on there," he argued, skimming the rest of the sheet. It was true that the lyrics did sound like something written for a cartoon rather than the quasi-edgy style the band seemed to favor. Yet the overall point – looking for the truth instead of trusting looks or rumors – fit perfectly with everything that had gone on the past three months and more. In particular, it brought to mind the press conference fiasco with Judy. "Xavier, have you seen this?" he asked, holding it up to the timber wolf. "You need to put this in the program."

"Really?" asked Ellen, pricking up her ears.

Xavier took the sheet and studied the words. "Yeah…" he said slowly and appreciatively. His head nodded with growing interest and approval. "Yeah, I could see this in there."

Ellen looked pleased, but then deflated. "But it's signed over to the station. Besides, I wrote it to be sung by hedgehogs."

"Change it up, then," the wolf answered, handing it back to her, "or write something else with the same message. Nicole, can you help her out with the sheet music?"

"Learn a new song in two weeks?" asked the red wolf uncertainly. Then she shrugged. "If you think it's that good, I'm in."

Nick wondered if this was the best time to bring up another idea, but something _had_ been at the back of his mind. "On the subject of changing things," he pointed out, "you might want to change up the lyrics to 'Hero.' I mean I get the whole 'generic masculine pronoun' thing, but the main mover and shaker with that case _was_ a she." He almost added that she was still at the heart of the investigation, but remembered that technically even _he_ wasn't supposed to know that. If word got around that he was running his mouth, it could put him on even worse terms with Bogo.

Xavier rubbed his chin at the idea. "I suppose," he admitted, "but 'Hero' is one of our top-rated songs, especially after everything that's happened. Changing it now might not be such a smart idea."

The fox had a quick answer for that. "What if you did a second version – like in movies, when they have a song twice but the lyrics are different?"

"A reprisal," Taelia put in, instantly warming to the idea. "That could work. Remember when John Rarr redid one of his songs as a tribute to... oh, I never remember athletes..."

"Tim T-Bone," Nick supplied.

"Oh, I _love_ that song!" Ellen enthused. "We have _got_ to do that!"

Xavier mulled it over and smiled. "Well, I guess if we can pull it together in time. All those in favor?"

There was no need for Nick to break a tie this time. All were in favor.

When the practice was over, Ellen and Nicole took off to discuss the new song, which Nick surmised was to be called, 'Not Always What They Seem'. Taelia stuck around a bit longer to fix some issues she had found with the sound equipment. Isabelle detained Vicky for a few minutes to sort out some tailoring (it turned out Mrs. Moonbeamer did double-duty as wardrobe manager for the band), and Xavier took the chance to chat with Nick.

"I've been trying to place you," he told Nick as they sat on a couple of chairs. "Are you a street vendor or something?"

Though he wasn't as proud of his old job as he'd once been, Nick smiled and nodded confidently. "Pawpsicles, yeah – and I've dabbled in one or two other business ventures. You might call me a Roarnaissance fox."

One of the wolf's eyebrows lifted. "Ever think of trying the music market?"

Nick blinked. "With you guys?"

Xavier nodded. "I majored in business administration, and one of the big rules in management is not to throw away opportunities. You've got a head for marketing, Nick. We could use that."

"Well..." At one time Nick would have jumped at the chance, and probably found some way to get the best of the band. This time, though, he wasn't so sure. "Actually, I've been thinking about changing careers."

He didn't see, but Taelia looked up from what she was doing. Her surprised look perfectly matched Xavier's.

"What, you?" asked the wolf. "But you've gotta be making a killing with talent like yours."

 _Yeah,_ thought Nick, _don't remind me._ "Don't get me wrong," he added, lifting his paws as if to push back the objection. "I'd love to work with you guys, but... I'm actually thinking about becoming a cop."

Both of Xavier's eyebrows lifted this time. "A cop, huh?" He propped a foot on one knee. "How'd you decide on that?"

Nick was a little surprised that the wolf wasn't more stunned by the idea. Most mammals would have fallen on the floor and died laughing; even most foxes he'd met. The lack of surprise struck him so much he almost forgot to make up an answer.

"Well," he said slowly, "back when I was a cub, I wanted to be part of something; to really belong somewhere, you know? Be part of a pack, I guess." If anyone could appreciate _that,_ it would be a wolf. Up to this point he had been honest, but if he was going to avoid the whole truth – that he had been all but dragged into a future in law enforcement – now was the time to segue into a lie. "I thought about being a cop, but I realized that no one trusted foxes, so I gave up on that. Lately, though, I've been thinking maybe no one trusts foxes _because_ there are no fox cops. So between that and Car- uh, Officer Hopps, I decided maybe it was time I did something about it."

Xavier was duly impressed. "Well," he said, smiling, "that's a heck of a life goal." He reached out and tapped Nick's shoulder with a fist. "Show 'em how it's done, dog. I get the feeling you'll do great."

The moment of nigh-brotherhood was broken as the wolf's watch beeped, and he glanced at it. "Yikes, it's getting late. You and Taelia had better get going. Tal, are you almost done in there?"

"Just a few more tweaks," came the reply. Taelia had disappeared again under the sound board. She didn't want Nick to see her until she had pulled herself together. _There_ is _a God,_ she thought to herself.

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, the two vulpines strolled through the gathering dusk, taking in the rare treat of starlight at ground level. Even in this more residential area of the city – not quite a suburb, but close enough – lights from the more metropolitan area made it hard to spot anything in the sky. All the same, they made the best of it they could, turning down an offer from Xavier to drive them back to Taelia's. At the vixen's suggestion, they detoured along a quieter route which led past a park. It was the long way home, but it was scenic… and she wanted to talk.

"You seem pretty quiet," Nick observed at one point.

Her shoulders rose and fell. She avoided looking at him; the last thing she wanted was get all emotional. Her mind was turning into a tangle of thoughts she had stopped dreaming were possible and things she wished she could forget had ever happened. "Just... just thinking," she answered, her arms pinching in against her sides as she did her best to focus on the hopes and not the regrets.

His ears pricked up curiously. "What about?"

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. "Well, it's about what you said – you know, about why you want to be a cop." She spoke quickly and with determination, focusing on the words as a way to stay in control. "That's just how I feel, only maybe from the other end."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I meet so many foxes – dogs especially – who just settle for the species reputation. Some of them even seem to enjoy it. I hate that, because it just drags the rest of us down."

Nick couldn't help remembering the way he'd talked to Judy early on about that very subject. _'We can only be what we are,'_ his voice echoed to him. This time it sounded much as Judy must have heard it at the time: snide, bigoted, even malignant. _'Sly fox, dumb bunny.'_

Taelia went on. "I mean... well, my dad could have been a doctor – I _know_ he could have – but because no one trusts him he was lucky to get a job in a paper mill. And no one trusts him..."

"Because they've been conned by foxes like the ones you just talked about," Nick concluded, keeping a straight face. Part of him had to wonder how old Taelia's dad was. He knew paper mills could be tough places to work, especially for the smaller set. _Guy's gotta be in his fifties, right?_ Another part of him, none too fond of guilt, did its best to block out the mental image.

"Exactly." Taelia didn't need to struggle now; she was in her element. She took a deep breath, and the night air somehow seemed fresher than usual. Her head turned to and fro, taking in the sights. Her eyes fell on a bench, and a thought came to her. "Nick," she asked, touching his arm, "do you mind if we sit down for a minute?"

He shrugged, glad for any change of subject. "Sure."

They sat, and Taelia tried to think how to say what was on her mind. She liked Nick a lot; she was sure of it now. Inside, she wanted him to put an arm around her or say something special, but she wasn't about to tell him that. For one thing, it would kind of kill the point.

Then she got an idea. "Oh, hey, I just remembered something. I added you to my contacts last night after you texted me, but I don't have a picture to go with the info."

"Oh." He scooted back and smiled. "Well, go ahead. Just get my good side."

She laughed a little. "Actually, I was hoping for a picture with both of us in it."

Inside Nick hesitated. This wasn't turning into the 'touch-and-go' kind of relationship he was used to, and while he liked Taelia, there was a part of him that rebelled against getting too cozy. Perhaps it was the part that preferred detachment, or maybe it was the growing belief that she'd sing an entirely different tune if she ever found out his history.

Outwardly, however, habit took over. While he was still pondering his dilemma, he scooted back up next to her and put his paw on hers on the bench. That made their shoulders feel too crunched, however, so – still questioning the wisdom of it – he put his arm around her. Her smile brightened at this, and she leaned her head just a little against him as she stretched out her right arm to take the shot. Nick, opting to play the part until a better idea came along, took one himself.

"Why waste a good photo op?" he remarked.

She smiled. "Thanks," she told him quietly. He could practically see the stars in her eyes. Heck, if he had looked hard enough he might have been able to pick out whole constellations. "I never met a guy who was willing to try like you," she said. Her tone wasn't the woozy, dreamy kind one might find in a movie right before a kiss under a shooting star. It was more a matter-of-fact tone with just a touch of 'wow.'

Then, in the odd way that thoughts go sometimes, she suddenly remembered something. "Oh, we forgot about the fortune cookies," she noted, fishing in her pocket. "I grabbed them when we left my apartment."

The cookies, as you might expect, were a bit worse for the wear. Still, she and Nick each picked a pouch, opened it, and snacked on the crumbs while reading the fortunes. Taelia blushed when she read hers: ' _Stop searching forever. Happiness is right beside you.'_ She stifled her reaction, not about to let some piece of paper get her excited... much. Still, things were definitely looking up. _It's better than a dream,_ she thought to herself.

Nick's fortune was less direct: _Your loyalties are clear when it comes to friends._ Suddenly the mild, sweet flavor of fortune cookie lost a bit of its savor. _Were_ his loyalties so clear? He had left Judy treading water on her case – even if she seemed okay with his reason – and now here he was lying to Taelia. What kind of loyalty was that?

For a moment, he actually entertained the thought of telling Taelia the truth. Not the whole truth, maybe, but that he had once let the pressure drive him to, as she put it, 'settle' for being what the world expected a fox to be.

Then he shrugged it off. _Nah, it's over anyway._ As his older, more rationalistic side reasserted itself, he mentally added, _And what she doesn't know won't hurt me._

 **So there you have it. Not the kind of mess you thought Nick was getting himself into? (shrug) Well surprise, surprise. Among other things, I wanted to show how it might go if Nick were alongside a vulpine who didn't take the low road. Only, what's he going to do now that his big mouth has backed him into a corner? What's going to happen if Taelia finds out the truth?**

 **By the way, this chapter is another Easter Egg Hunt! I'm debating whether to keep giving clues or not, but for now I'm compromising and just making them vague. Here are the clues:**

 **Taelia's closet**

 **Her assessment of Nick as they walked to practice (there are two here)**

 **A remark from the inner extrovert**

 **Xavier and Isabelle's mailbox (you'll want to know your American history for this one)**

 **Nick's fortune cookie**

 **Taelia, just before Nick's fortune cookie**

 **I had some lyrics for you to guess at as well, but certain *ahem* parties hassled me into all but eliminating the story's musical content. So, at the cost of robbing you guys of some more Easter Egg Hunting, the first song referenced is "I Won't Say I'm In Love," from _Hercules._ The second is "The Words I Would Say" by Sidewalk Prophets (definitely worth a listen).**


	10. Ten: A Day in Review, and Something New

Hey everyone. Sorry for the delay, but I hope you all enjoyed _Christmas in Bunnyburrow_ in the meantime. Anyway, wait no longer!

 **"My only love, sprung from my only hate!"**

 **Juliet, _Romeo and Juliet_ by William Shakespeare**

 **Edited by AngloFalcon and winerp**

Any stranger passing on the street would have taken little notice of the vixen pushing a fold-up cart with a laundry hamper tucked into it as she made her way along the sidewalk. Someone who knew her, however, might have detected a lightness in her steps – not quite skipping, but certainly stepping with more energy and perhaps a little more swivel in her hips. She wasn't quite walking on air, but there was an energy in her paws which normally wouldn't have been there if she were taking this particular route.

Usually that time of day would have found her working with one of the half-dozen or so startup bands for which she freelanced at any given time, or perhaps covering a concert or party somewhere in the city. However, she had made it a point to clear her schedule of all but the most pressing engagements leading up to the benefit concert so she could give her full attention to _Vixen_ – not only her number one band with which to work, but also her undisputed BFFs. After a couple of startups rose and fell during her high school years and took her along for the ride, she had joined up with Xavier and the others in college. For about ten years since then she had stuck with them, working for others when she had to to make ends meet, but always putting them first and always coming back to them in the end. With them, she was content.

Tonight, she was more than content. She was _elated_. So much so, in fact, that not even having to resort to doing her laundry late – and at a laundromat other than the one she preferred – wasn't going to spoil her mood. Usually she went to one which specialized in serving smaller mammals and was situated a convenient half-block from her apartment. That one, however, would be closed by the time she got to it, so she had decided to go to the 24-hour place three blocks over. It served a larger variety of sizes, but with machines – particularly the smaller ones – more inclined to break down. In fact, the last time she had gone there she had been reduced to asking a bull elephant if he'd let her slip her things into the extra space left in his washer. The experience had taught her more than she _ever_ wanted to know about guys' clothes, and she suspected that the elephant was somewhere still using her favorite bed sheet for a trunk wipe. Yet after her conversation with Nick – not to mention the photo they took together – she felt ready to forgive just about anyone for just about anything. Tonight she had a free schedule, her laptop was swinging in her messenger bag, and it seemed as if everything one could ask for was right with the world.

Her good mood only brightened when she reached the laundromat and found that the smaller machines were working for a change. Humming cheerfully, she loaded up two washers – one for permanent press, the other for knits and delicates – found herself a seat in the laundromat's back room where it was a bit quieter, and decided to do some work on her program.

As part of her studies in computer science back in college, Taelia had taken a freeware sound editing program from the internet and modified it for her own purposes. Since then, with some help from updates, she had managed to make it into something truly special for the band. _Vixen 6.0,_ as she called it, was specialized for splitting and merging different sources of sound – mainly instruments and voices – and adjusting to ensure ideal harmonization and minimal interference. Most mammals had no idea just how much went into mixing sound to its full potential, and even her band mates were largely in the dark about how she did what she did. For all Xavier had been known to say with full meaning that if the band had a most valuable member, it would be her.

Moving aside some editions of _Zoogats! Mammal Magazine,_ she set up her computer and opened the program. Tonight, she was tinkering with some recordings of Ellen's voice and drums, trying to ensure that the rapid staccato beats didn't conflict with the dingo's much lighter, more fluid vocals. However, as her ears and fingers went about the task like feet out on an evening stroll, her mind was on Nick.

She _wasn't_ head over tail... or so she told herself. She wasn't about to go up to Cloud Nine over a guy – certainly not after just two dates – but for one like Nick... well, Cloud Seven, easily. No; no, seven was too easy. Eight at least...

Okay, she was hooked. _Finally,_ she thought, _a tod who steps up._ Ever since she'd been old enough to look at the princesses – and the odd warrior maids – in her storybooks and ask if she would ever be like that, her mother had told her never to settle for a guy who wouldn't step up. "If he won't make an effort," Mrs. Stones used to say, "then he's not worth your effort." Taelia had outgrown the storybooks, but she had never forgotten her mother's advice.

The thing was, she had thought of stepping up as fairly everyday stuff like putting down a newspaper to help put the groceries away, or even going out to get them oneself. Working hard to support a family the way her father (and now her brother) did, using days off to fix odd bits of wear and tear on the house, and so on. That simple kind of work ethic had been at the core of her image of masculinity, and after years of on-again, off-again searching, she had begun to think she'd never find a decent reynard who wasn't already taken. Heck, she had even stooped to dating one guy who lived in his mom's basement waiting for a job as a video game tester – which, admittedly, would have been tolerable if he hadn't been so darn cheerful about it, as if it were up there with finding a cure for cancer.

Now, though, she had found the cream of the crop; a living Sir Clawain. Then she stopped herself. _No, he's not_ that _good._ Softening, she added, _He's up there, though._

She got to wondering how he would look in uniform. In her mind's eye, an image began to form. Not the strictly utilitarian kind of uniform she'd seen on larger officers, but something approachable; huggable, even. _Black slacks, blue dress shirt, maybe a black tie and some of those yellow stripes on the bicep..._ It was a nice picture; no question. He'd probably be putting on some muscle too, if he was going to be an officer. She hoped it wouldn't be too much, though. She liked Nick the way he was: masculine, but not overwhelmingly so. _A little muscle tone would be nice,_ she decided. _'Slim and a little bit foxy.'_

She grimaced as the words intruded on her mind like an unwanted guest who always stepped in something nasty and never wiped his feet. That line had been a favorite of her second boyfriend – one she would have very much liked to forget. She still shook her head at having been naive enough to let him see her in that skimpy two-piece bathing suit. Not to mince words, the memory of _that_ date still bothered her even though it had been around half her life ago.

 _One more good thing about Nick,_ she thought, doing her best to fight a bad thought with a good one. So far as she'd seen, Nick was _very_ respectful of a vixen's body. Though the warmth and pressure of that half-hug on the park bench still lingered, bringing with them a warmth in her cheeks, she hadn't missed how tentative he had been at the outset. If anything, he seemed a little over-restrained, which was an excess she could live with. _Give me a shy guy over a clingy creep any day,_ she mused.

Her more realistic side said that Nick _had_ to have some flaw or other, since there was no such thing as a perfect guy. _Okay,_ she thought, _So his clothes clash and he probably snores or something, but the first one's cosmetic and the second one's_ years _from being a problem._ As a kit, she had promised her parents she wouldn't sleep with a guy until she'd married him.

Uninterested in letting the past spoil her mood, she returned her attention to the recording of her friend, letting the song drown out her doubts. Short of a criminal record or an ex-wife, she couldn't think of any faults that would cancel out what she was seeing so far – and something told her Nick Wilde didn't have either one.

* * *

Not that far away, the object of her affection was laying back on his bed. Shedding his usual floral look, he was lounging in his pants and an undershirt with his arms folded behind his head and his right ankle propped on his upraised left knee.

The apartment was a nice place; nicer than his old digs, at any rate. He still remembered the look on Judy's face when she saw his old place (her fault, he figured, for waking him up at five in the morning over paperwork). Back then there hadn't been much reason to keep his standards high; if he could even find a decent apartment that didn't turn him down based on his species, his sloppy habits would have most likely cost him his deposit or gotten him evicted. Furthermore, his previous run-down accommodations would make anyone scrap the idea that he was raking in the same amount each day as a part-time job might net in a week.

Now that he was pursuing a changed life, though, it seemed appropriate to trade up. At least, that was what he told himself when he didn't feel like admitting that Judy had badgered him into finding a better place. Better still, a letter of reference from the city's newest hero (at least to prey, which the landlord happened to be) had been enough to get him the place at rent he'd be able to afford on a cop's salary. He had even pointed out that Judy might try using her newfound clout to upgrade her own living conditions, but she had asserted that there was a big difference between helping someone else out and using her newfound standing for personal gain. All in all, it was even enough to get him to be a little tidier in how he lived – more so if Taelia dropping in ever became a possibility.

Nick's new apartment was not unlike Taelia's, except that the rooms were in more of a boxy arrangement. To the back of the main room was a bathroom which was slightly cramped, but good enough for a bachelor's use. To the left of the main room was a bedroom – again, small, but good enough considering he kept his clothes in a suitcase out of habit and thus had little need for a dresser or other amenities. Then there was a fair-sized room at the back corner of the apartment which served as a dog cave for his collection of posters and old vinyl records. He had always wanted a dog cave, although it still needed a gaming system.

 _Some_ Vixen _album art wouldn't hurt,_ he thought, though he supposed Taelia's backstage role would limit her presence in the group's visuals. A contented smile spread across his muzzle. _More for me, I guess._ His standing with the band was nothing to sneeze at either; a whole roomful of mammals, all but one of them larger and from species of better reputation than himself, and _they_ were all counting on _him_. To even be treated with respect by such a group was a novelty, but for them to rely on him like that was more than he had ever imagined – as if he were an officer already. Heck, they had practically asked him to join without ever hearing him sing (which, with the way he sang, was probably a good thing). Who knew; he might still be able to arrange some sales for them on the side. Okay, so he had stretched the truth on a few things, (practically everything) but so far it looked like everything was going his way. Fine girlfriend: check. Decent apartment: double check. Clear conscience... mostly check.

He shook his head. In the old days, he wouldn't have even thought about a clear conscience. Back then he had mostly cared about doing what it took to get ahead. Lying had been a standard part of his business, his relationships, and pretty much everything else. Now even stretching the truth bugged him, if only a little.

 _I wonder what Mom would think,_ he wondered, instantly wishing he could backtrack and go around that thought. He and his mother hadn't spoken in years – not since she found out about the real source of all that money he brought home to cover the bills. He had felt some sense of self-righteous indignity at the time since, after all, his 'dirty money' had been paying most of the household costs. Afterward, especially after driving past several times over the years and seeing that she hadn't been evicted without him helping cover the rent, his feelings on the matter had slipped into a kind of remorse. Lately... well, for the past several years he had simply felt an empty sense of homesickness whenever his mom came to mind.

He glanced at the phone lying on his nightstand, and he thought – not for the first time by a long shot – of calling her. He could tell her everything; that he was sorry, that he was trying to change, that he had helped save the city...

 _Yeah, like heck she'd believe that,_ he thought, his face twisting into a pained and averse frown. Maybe if it had been just the first two, but if he told her _that_ much she'd want the whole story and be very skeptical of it all. If he tried to make up something more believable... no. She would know he was lying, and the small chance that she wouldn't wasn't worth the risk.

 _Maybe when she sees me in the newspaper,_ he thought. The country's first fox police officer would surely rate an article, especially if he tapped a contact or two at the Zootopia Bugler.

Of course, first he had to get into the ZPD, which would not be a simple feat by any means. _Buffalo Butt won't give me an easy time,_ he thought. It crossed his mind that he should probably stop thinking of Bogo by that nickname. He might slip up and say it out loud like he had done with his middle school principal, Mr. Roqued. Calling a mountain lion 'Principal Rockhead' to his face was _not_ a recipe for a fun afternoon. Still, he owed it to the bunny to give it his best shot, especially after he had up and disappeared on her that afternoon.

"Okay," he said out loud. "So how do I get Judy a break in her case?"

He tried to put himself in the suspects' shoes. Quite likely they were holed up somewhere, laying low in another part of the city. When he'd been a crook and someone had begun to suspect him, he would just move his operations to another part of the city, often taking advantage of conflicts between crime bosses by crossing territorial lines to hide from whomever he'd upset. These guys, though, would require a different approach. If they were the least bit smart, as it seemed safe to say Doug was at least, they had probably ceased operations altogether and were just focused on not getting caught. They might even be trying to figure out how to get out of the country.

Unfortunately, they were doing a pretty good job of not getting caught. So far the ZPD had only scant hints – which might or might not even be accurate – as to the whereabouts of their sheep on the lam, and it was likely that the sheep had planned in advance to cover their tracks. Besides, he had already called a friend to check out the strongest of those possibilities, so there wasn't much point in dwelling on that.

 _So they're either very scared or very smug,_ he thought. Of course, the latter could turn into the former pretty quickly if he and Judy could just get one piece of evidence to pin the suspects the way she had pinned him. Inwardly, he warmed at the thought of being on the giving end of such a stunt, knowing full well how they would feel when he was cornered like that.

An idea took form in his mind. _Hmm..._

* * *

Judy was getting annoyed. _Three days of chasing down clues, and not a single suspect caught._ There didn't even seem to be a clear-cut trail to follow, despite Nick's early confidence.

For the hundredth time, she looked over the dossiers she had assembled on the sheep still at large. There were a handful of suspects involved – some unaccounted for, some in custody, and some walking free after answering a multitude of questions and agreeing not to leave town – but the three who had been at the subway car were key. Besides that, there was the fact that she had personally lost them when she had the chance to bring them in. _Could have slipped away and called in the ZPD,_ she thought, rehashing an idea which had first come to her after several of the ZPD's preds had expressed a wish to get their paws on the three. Granted, if she hadn't acted when she did, Bellwether would probably still be at large – maybe still in the mayoral office at that. For that matter, the targeted cheetah might well have injured or even killed more mammals. Letting the suspects escape was arguably a small price to pay, but it was still a loss she was more than eager to recoup. The fact that the three would no doubt love to take her, Nick, or the both of them out of the picture was also a factor, though the truth was she fervently wished they _would_ try to pay her a visit.

Doug was the most critical, by all accounts. His skill with chemistry and botanicals had been the linchpin of the whole plot, and although the plot had been exposed, that sheep still had the know-how to turn any mammal in the city into a living weapon. The only thing stopping him from doing it, most likely, was that fear of the law had driven him to keep his head low.

 _If I could just get him to show it,_ she thought to herself. _Some trick I could use to..._

Suddenly, she remembered something. As a younger bunny she had often read mysteries, real and fictional, to sharpen her mind and practice following clues. She recalled one in particular which had tickled her more for the detective losing than anything else. The sleuth – a wolf with a rather dim view of females – had been outwitted by a lady even after he tricked her into revealing where she was hiding a compromising photograph.

A smile spread over Judy's face as she realized that, using the same basic strategy which had failed the detective, she might be able to turn the tables on the ram.

Abruptly charged with excited energy, she snatched up her phone to call Chief Bogo. The buffalo had given her his cell phone number with the instruction to let him know the second she had a development – and a firm order that under no circumstances should she let the number fall into Nick's possession. The chief was stubborn and given to stereotyping, but he was no dummy.

She selected the number – hidden in her contacts as a cousin she didn't really have – and was about to hit 'send' when it crossed her mind that perhaps calling Nick first would be better. If she could bring him in on the idea, they might be able to use that to sway Bogo. On the other paw, she didn't want to spoil his date.

A glance at the clock reminded her it was pretty late. _Hmm,_ she thought, _if Nick's still on his date at this hour, a little interruption_ might _not be a bad idea._

At that moment, a bit of soft rock emanated from her phone, and the generic blank image she used for 'Cousin Basil S' was replaced with a characteristically smug shot of her fox companion.

 _Then again..._ She accepted the call. "Good evening, Junior," she greeted.

Nick was actually starting to get used to the nickname. "Hi Carrots. What's up?"

She leaned back and tried to sound more energetic than she felt. "Just going over the case. How about you? Have a good time?"

"Did I have fun? Yes. Yes I did. And I also had an idea about how to catch one of those sheep we're after."

She blinked, surprised at the timing. "I was literally about to call and tell you the same thing. What's your idea?"

He shrugged, feeling rather gentlemanly at the moment. "Ladies first."

With a shrug of her own, she relayed her plan. Nick was silent for a long moment.

"That is amazing," he said slowly. "That was exactly what I was thinking. Did you read my mind or did I read yours?"

They never did decide which one of them was psychic, but it didn't take long to decide their plan was a winner.

"Okay," Judy announced, grinning triumphantly. "I'll call Chief Bogo and tell him what 'you' came up with." She emphasized 'you' in a nudging kind of tone.

"Well, thanks for the credit, Carr- wait a second, you have his personal number?"

"Uh-huh," she replied, taking the opportunity to gloat just a little. "And he specifically told me not to let _you_ get it."

He paused for a moment. "Just like he told you to hand over your badge?" he ventured.

She chuckled. "See you tomorrow, Junior Detective."

"Oh, come _on_ ," he pleaded. "Do you _know_ how much fun I could have with-?"

It was too late. She'd already hung up.

Nick sighed in annoyance. "Females," he muttered under his breath.

 **Oh, boy. The Terrible Twosome is at it again. What's their scheme this time, and what about Nick's mom? Well, there's only one way to find out.**

 **Quick teaser: Kyla asked if anyone (a name was mentioned) would go savage. I won't say who gets hit, but I promise there will be savagery on a level unlike _any_ thing seen in the movie. It's going to be a few more chapters before this gets back to the noir feeling a lot of my readers loved about this at the start, but when it returns it'll be with a vengeance – literally.**

 **Thanks to public libraries, I've now had the chance to read The Stinky Cheese Caper and Other Cases from the ZPD Files. Clever plot, _not_ the best execution of said plot, and I didn't really feel the Zootopia charm, but as a children's book I think it does a great job of (ironically) humanizing police and their work – which, looking at the news these days, strikes me as very timely. It did give me a few ideas for later in this story, so stay alert.**

 **Last but not least, I have three Easter Eggs in this chapter:**

 **The show which supplied Taelia's salacious ex-boyfriend's catchphrase.**

 **The classic mystery which inspired Judy's brainstorm.**

 **The source of Chief Bogo's fake name (hint: his namesake and Judy would make an awesome team in a fight)**

 **There are a couple of other references which are vague enough I wouldn't feel it fair to list them, but kudos if you do spot them (there's a Pokemon ref in here waiting to be caught).**


	11. Eleven: If you Want to Catch a Criminal

Just a quick note, since I've been backtracking to clear up a few things and fix typos.

A lot of readers commented on confusion about Taelia's role and that of her band in the story. I do not usually give away too many spoilers ahead of time, but if this were a movie I probably would have teased it months before release: yes, they will be important. I make it a rule not to devote much attention to characters who won't be important. At the moment, they seem to have nothing to do with the case - but then neither did Duke Weaselton. How they will come into play... well, that remains to be seen.

And now, on with the chapter. :)

 **Edited by AngloFalcon and winerp**

" **Sir, if you want to catch a criminal, you send a criminal."**

 **Alexander Minion,** ** _Spy Kids_**

Foxes, from far back in their ancestry, had thrived on hunting by night and staying hidden from larger predators during the day. This tended to make them late risers, especially when they'd been out on a date the previous night. Judy knew this, and she also knew that Nick was one inclined to take... _shortcuts_. That was why this morning as she made her way up to his floor, she was less worried that she might find him underdressed than that he just might have just decided to sleep in his more presentable clothes. A few of her brothers had tried that on the nights before job interviews – and, unsurprisingly, failed to land the jobs.

 _Gotta make this work,_ she thought as she approached the door to his hall. She had done everything she could; laid out the plans, mentioned that she'd be coming early, tactfully left out that the reason for that was in case he decided to wear something which would discourage the chief from hiring him, and added a parting reminder to be ready.

She opened the fire door from the stairwell and power-walked down the hall toward his apartment.

"What's the hurry?"

Snapping out of her concentrated state as if someone had snatched her up by the ears, Judy had to stifle a jump. Very deliberately, she paused before turning so Nick wouldn't have the satisfaction of knowing he'd startled her. Once she felt sure enough that her surprise wasn't showing, she finally faced the fox, and there he was, leaning against a corner by the door she had just walked through. His fur was brushed, his shirt presentable, his tie knot actually covered his shirt's top button, and he was calmly sipping from a glass bottle of coffee. He even smelled like shampoo.

He paused his sipping and studied his claws. "You really should watch your sides more carefully, Officer Fluff. A less scrupulous guy could have pinched your badge."

"Har har." She rolled her eyes as she walked back to him and resisted the urge to slap his shoulder as he took another drink. His remark about the badge had obviously been a joke, since at the moment she was wearing a flannel shirt over her uniform so as not to draw attention. Even so, one of her paws unconsciously strayed up to where the ornament in question was concealed. She hadn't forgotten how he had swiped her keys the other day. "Let's go, Dumb Fox."

"Ouch." He put a paw to his chest and adopted a wounded expression. "Even 'Junior's' better than that."

"Oh, so you _do_ prefer 'Junior'?"

"That's _not_ what I said. You want me to start calling you 'Cottontail'?"

As they made their way down the stairs, they avoided discussing their plans for the meeting with Chief Bogo. Nick's new place was in a reasonably reputable part of town, but one never knew. So Judy seized the opportunity to see if she could ruffle the fox's fur a bit.

"So, how was the _date_ last night?" she asked in a deliberately prying tone. She wiggled her eyebrows up and down for emphasis.

Nick smiled – either in too good of a mood to be bothered by the rabbit's pestering or else unwilling to let her see that he _was_ bothered. "Actually, it went quite well," he replied calmly. "We had a bite to eat, and then she took me to hang out with her band at their practice session. They're getting ready for a benefit concert."

Judy's ears pricked up at this – partly because she was a little surprised Nick was suddenly so forthcoming, and partly because she loved a good concert. "What band? What's the concert for?"

"Vixen – and you'd like the concert." He filled her in on the event and the group's particular intention for their own part. "They're making it with _you_ in mind," he added in a tone designed to make her blush.

"Wow," she said a little slowly. She'd never heard of the band, but it was pretty flattering that they would devote a gig to her. She wasn't exactly used to being that much in the limelight. "That is really cool. I'll have to see if I can get the time off to check it out."

He shrugged. "You could do that," and his smirk widened by a fraction, "or maybe you could see about getting onto a security detail for it or something."

At this, she had to shake her head. "Tempting," she admitted, "but you're already enough of an opportunist for _both_ of us."

A coy smirk she could feel even without looking spread along the length of his muzzle. "Well, last night sure had some opportunities," he teased, guessing that she could take that a couple of ways.

He guessed rightly. "What does that mean?" she asked, regarding him warily and taking on a, 'You'd better have behaved yourself, young mammal' tone of voice.

 _Good grief, she actually sounds like my mom,_ he thought. "Well, would you believe their manager wanted to know if I'd be interested in doing some sales for the band?"

Judy wasn't sure how to react to that. She decided not to let him know her first thought had been much what he probably wanted it to be, so she stifled her immediate reaction. "What, just like that?" she asked instead.

"Just like that," he replied, rubing his claws on his shirt. "Turned it down, although I don't suppose it would be a problem if I did it on the side, would it?"

She shrugged as they exited the building. "Maybe, but let's talk about getting the chief to hire you first. Gotta stay focused on your goals."

Buzzkilling aside, Judy was glad to know Nick's night out had gone well. It was nice to see him in such good spirits, and if a date accomplished that then she was all for it. All the same, there was a time and a place for everything – and now, as they walked along a street which was as of yet fairly quiet in the early morning hours, it seemed like a much better time to discuss how best to pitch 'Nick's' plan to Bogo.

They arrived well before the usual bullpen briefing, hoping to catch the chief ahead of time. If they were going to pull this plan off in a timely fashion, they needed to spend the whole day laying the groundwork. Timing was vital.

As it turned out, and as they had pretty much expected, Chief Bogo was not willing to bring Nick into his office for Judy to explain their plan. "Nothing personal," he added in a tone which conveyed neither genuine apology nor insincerity, "but we do have a policy that only officers be present when police operations are discussed."

Judy sagged. "Fine, but he already knows the whole plan anyway. He was the one who helped me work out the details."

The water buffalo raised an eyebrow. "Thought as much. Still don't care."

Judy's mouth opened to protest, but the chief waved a hoof, simultaneously cutting her off and bidding her to follow.

"Let's go, Hopps. Mr. Wilde, you can wait in the lobby."

Unsurprisingly, Judy was fuming by the time they got to Chief Bogo's office. As she hopped up and stood on the chair in front of the desk, he settled his hulking form in the much bulkier seat behind.

"So, Hopps, what exactly is the fox's plan?"

The rabbit had to resist a protest that it was a team effort. Something in Chief Bogo's voice suggested that he was skeptical of her needing Nick as an extra brain, but for all she knew he might be trying to get her to admit she could have cooked it up on her own. "Well, we have eyes and ears all over the city looking for the sheep, _but_ we came up with a way to get the sheep – or at least one of them – to come to us instead."

"Ah, 'we,' is it?" asked Bogo, scrawling something on a pad of paper. "So this wasn't _all_ the fox's idea."

Judy sighed. "We worked on it together. That's our job. We're partners."

Bogo exhaled with a breath that was loud enough to be audible, but not quite a snort. "Not yet you're not. Now go on. Tell me about this plan you two came up with."

"Well, there doesn't seem to be any evidence at the suspects' apartments." Judy had checked out Woolter's apartment the previous day after Nick headed out to meet Taelia. "However, if we leaked an announcement about a new lead found while investigating one of the suspects' apartments, we might be able to lure them back – where _we'll_ be waiting. We might even be able to get them to show us something we missed."

"I see." Bogo wasn't about to admit it outright, but he saw merit in the plan. "And where exactly does the fox play into this?"

"He pointed out that if we made the announcement to all the networks and papers, the sheep would probably guess that it was a trap. _But_ , since Nick knows the city inside and out, he can point us to the best media to make it look like an accidental leak. He can also help us when we go to set up stage two. He's lived most of his life in neighborhoods like that one."

Bogo raised an eyebrow at this, leading the bunny cop to wonder if she had said too much. The chief knew Nick had been a great help in cracking the first part of the case, but he was still suspicious of the fox. Judy worried that anything she said might and probably would darken Bogo's view of Nick.

"It's perfectly in line with procedure to consult civilians when we're..."

Bogo cleared his throat with a sound reminiscent of a small truck starting up. "I'm aware of the department's procedures, Hopps." He stopped and regarded her doubtfully for a long moment, rapping a finger on the tabletop.

 _Taptaptaptap._

 _Taptaptaptap._

 _Taptaptaptap._

 _Taptaptaptap._

Just when Judy thought her brain would burst, he stopped and sighed. "Alright. I'll authorize your plan-"

" _Yes!"_ Judy quietly cheered.

"But!" he cut her off quickly, "Any part he plays will be strictly on the sidelines. He can help with surveillance and planning, but when it comes time for the arrest, I don't want him anywhere near the building."

Judy had expected that. In fact, she felt a little insulted that he would think it necessary to remind her. While Bogo's own motivation might have more to do with his doubts about Nick, Rule One of any stakeout was to keep civilians out of the line of fire. Shrugging off her personal theories, she nodded agreeably. "And I suppose I'll be inside?" she ventured.

"Yes. We'll have you inside the apartment, and one other officer nearby for backup. Officer... Catano. She should do just fine."

Judy had met officer Callie Catano – a cheetah at the top of her game – once or twice in the locker room. They hadn't worked together because they were on different shifts, but the female feline was friendly enough in a distant sort of way. She had, on occasion, stood as a blocker so Judy wouldn't get stepped on as she rummaged in her locker, and once she had saved the rabbit from the truly frustrating nuisance of being accidentally closed _into_ said locker. All in all, it seemed as though Callie didn't excite easily the way a certain other cheetah at the precinct, but she still sounded like a promising teammate.

However, the prospect of working with a friend – albeit a rather detached one – wasn't the reason Judy smiled triumphantly. Now it was time for the _coup de gras_ of the scheme she had worked out with Nick. She had thought it was strange that Bogo and Clawhauser had a bet – even a penalties gambit – going, so she had asked a few questions here and there around the department. Finally, Officer Wolfard 'hadn't' told her that although Bogo eschewed games of chance, he was not above using such tactics to motivate his officers to try harder. In Clawhauser's case, the prospect of getting the cheetah to present a more professional appearance had simply been too good to pass up.

As they exited the office and made their way through the lobby to contact Nick, she made her move. "I'll bet I can bring him in without backup," she sing-songed.

He glanced at her over his glasses. "Don't give yourself too much credit, Hopps," he replied. Still, he was no dummy. He knew well that Judy was trying to haggle, but he also knew what she could accomplish when she put her mind to it. "All the same, suppose I decided to say you're on. What would you want if you won that bet?"

Judy could hardly believe the chief had taken the bait. "Well, if I bring in whoever shows up without Officer Catano stepping in to help, you recommend Ni- I mean, Mr. Wilde for what we've been talking about."

Bogo had to admit, he was impressed with the bunny's bravado. All the same, he shook his head. "I don't bet on hiring decisions," he replied.

Judy's hopes dropped, but then she caught a glimpse of Clawhauser's drooping visage as they passed near the reception desk. "Well, then, how about letting Ben off of _his_ bet?"

At this, the chief glanced across at the cheetah, who looked up at what the rabbit had said. Getting Clawhauser to cut back on sweets _was_ a rare accomplishment, not to be lightly tossed away. Then again, Ben was hardly his cheerful self greeting visitors in his present state, and watching for donuts was very much a novelty game. After some thought, Bogo nodded. "Alright, Hopps. Bring in your suspect single-pawed, and I'll call off the bet with Clawhauser."

Judy's heart leaped, and she could have sworn she heard a quiet cheer from the desk. She had to laugh at that, if only a little. "O-kay, it's a bet."

"Splendid," Bogo replied. "I'll expect a written proposal of the plan; you and the fox can fill it out while you handle traffic duty. I want it done and back here by lunch time so I can go over it before clock-out."

"Written proposal? Traffic duty?" Judy was incensed. "You already approved-"

"I need it in writing, Hopps," the cape buffalo answered, stalling her with a raised hoof. "City hall's in a mess, in case you forgot." He turned to walk away, still talking loudly and clearly enough that, for audibility purposes, it didn't matter which way he was facing. "Besides, I've got officers doing double-time to keep this city in order. If you're going to be occupied with forms, you might as well be covering some ground yourself."

The bunny irritably drummed her foot, feeling like she had just gone right back to Day One with the parking duty assignment. Worse was the fact that there was really no hole in Bogo's logic. Someone had to take care of the small stuff too, and it wasn't like she could do paperwork while she drove around investigating reports of Night Howler labs and suspicious sheep.

With a huff, she headed over to the desk, where Clawhauser was following her every move with his eyes.

"Thank you so, _so_ much," he said with warmth she hadn't heard from him in days.

"Hey, it was no- _thing!"_ Her calm reply turned into a startled half-grunt as he grabbed her up into a hug that made her eyes pop. For someone in his weight class, he was surprisingly quick – and strong.

Nick, who had begun fiddling with different sounds on his phone as soon as Bogo was out of sight, glanced up and smirked. "Good look for you, Carrots," he replied, switching apps. "I think I just found-"

His intentions were clear enough. "Ben! Down!" Judy grunted, struggling to get loose.

"Oh! Sorry!" Ben hastily dropped her, though she managed to somehow land with an ounce of dignity.

"Nuts," muttered Nick, though he did snap a nice shot of her looking half-winded.

She caught her breath, checked quickly to make sure all her ribs were still intact, and smirked at Nick triumphantly. "Well, we'd better get going. I'll get the paperwork and a cruiser."

Ben waved as Judy strolled off. "Thanks again, Judy!"

She waved back. "I won't let you down, Ben!" She was almost gone when a thought occurred to her. Stopping and spinning on one heel, she strolled back and asked Nick, "By the way, what was up with those noises from your phone?"

He shrugged. "Just picking a ringtone for a new contact."

Judy's eyebrows bobbed up and down. "A 'contact,' hm? As in You-Know-Who?"

He regarded her with his eyelids at half-mast. "Do _you_ know who? No. No you don't."

"Liar," she teased, folding her arms. "Must be pretty serious if you're giving her her own ring tone."

He rolled his eyes. "For your information, I give _all_ my contacts their own ringtones – at least all the ones I hear from regularly."

"Really?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. "What's mine?"

The smirk on his face couldn't _begin_ to mean anything good – a hunch confirmed when, after a few taps on the screen, a staccato singing voice emerged from the phone.

 _'I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves...'_

Nick wished like crazy that he could have snapped a picture of Judy's face right at that instant. _Finally got the upper paw,_ he thought, congratulating himself.

She was quick to recover, though, planting her paws on her hips. "Well, I know the perfect ringtone for You-Know-Who. It's even in your music collection."

Nick's sudden pallor was visible even through his fur. "No no no!" he hissed.

Judy started humming. _That_ song. Again.

Clawhauser recognized it as well. "Hey, you like that song too?"

Nick wondered if he could still get Duke Weaselton to sell him a jar of live fleas. If he _could,_ Judy would have some company in her cramped little apartment very, _very_ soon.

 **Hoo boy. I think Nick is just itching to settle the score with Judy now. Don't suppose anyone out there would like to see a side project about them having a prank war?**

 **A little explanation about Officer Catano: I can't seem to find it now, but a while back I came across what appeared to be a post by one of the filmmakers showing a picture of a female cheetah officer; evidently a piece of concept art for an unused character. I had been planning to place Officer Fangmeyer as Judy's temporary partner, but vague and conflicting accounts as to Fangmeyer's sex and even species gave me pause (Popular consensus seems to be a female tiger, though I am more persuaded by the arguments that Fangmeyer is a male tiger – which, obviously, would not work quite so well for some things). I almost let AngloFalcon talk me into it anyway, but then I realized using Officer Catano would save me from any surprises or retcons down the road. As a bonus, this expands the circle beyond just Judy and Nick in their own little clique, which for me is a lot of the fun or writing OCs.**

 **Now, between the poll, the reviews, the messages, and the threats (nah, just kidding on that last one), it sounds like most everyone wants a minimum of spoilers. However, because so many readers have now become invested in Clawhauser's donut withdrawal, I will reveal this: it's not going to be easy on the poor fella, but I promise you he will make it through this one okay... eventually.**

 **On one other note, I announce with regret that this is the last chapter which will be proofread by AngloFalcon for the foreseeable future. Because of scheduling conflicts, he has opted to step back from proofreading chapter by chapter. I will still consult him in a more general sense, since his advice thus far has been of such a great help to me. As for my new proofreader, he has opted to remain anonymous, but I am sure he will prove most helpful – and I'll still be consulting winerp as well.**

 **Easter Eggs**

 **One: Not expecting a lot of people to catch this one, but there's a bit in here borrowed from** ** _Angel Wars._**

 **Two: Here's one for you Disney fans – a line from** ** _An Extremely Goofy Movie._**

 **Three: There's a rather ominous bit from** ** _Doctor Who_** **in here (I just can't stop referencing that show).**

 **Congratulations, by the way, to BeecroftA for spotting the classical literature Easter Egg.**


	12. Twelve: The Trap is Set

Quick notes: First of all, you've probably noticed this story now has cover art! It was drawn by the excellent KungFuFreak07, and I've got to say that working with her was almost as great as the picture itself. She was very communicative and showed great diligence in getting it just right.

Second, for those who may be wondering, I generally imagine Callie Catano as having a voice much like that of Raven from _Teen Titans_. It strikes me that I haven't mentioned voice actors since Emmitt Otterton, but if anyone wants I can supply a list of other voices.

Third, I have decided to go through with "Prank War" at the earliest opportunity. I'm open for suggestions as well as anyone looking to participate in the project, which I want to make a collaborative work of multiple writers. There is no minimum of maximum limit on participation, and all participants will be credited.

And now, on with the story.

* * *

" **Again, the prophecies of the Matoran oppose my will. Must I release those who should never see the light of day?"**

 **Makuta,** _ **Bionicle: Mask of Light**_

In a hidden room somewhere in Meadowlands, a cluster of mammals – mostly sheep and other hooved species – sat lounging around on couches or pecking away at computers and mobile devices. None of them were browsing news articles or using social media. No; instead, they were going over blueprints, skimming databases of mammals around the city… and one, in the corner, was studying an array of chemical formulas on a desktop computer.

The door opened, and an uncommonly muscular ewe poker her head in out of a dimly lit hallway so grungy-looking that no mammal in their right mind would have considered poking around in it – which was the whole idea, of course.

"Hey, Faust," she called. Though there was virtually no chance of being overheard (the walls were soundproof, and few unauthorized mammals ever came near the door at the far end of the hall anyway), the manager of the place had it on a very strict policy; codenames only. The big mammal had a thing for theatrics which irked his employees to no end, particularly when the room's full-time occupants all knew each other anyway. On the other hand, many of them would have been in jail without his protection, so they had little choice but to accept his whims.

The ram at the desktop looked up with a scowl. "This had better be important."

The ewe jerked her head. "Obearon wants to talk."

No one ever saw 'Obearon,' the mysterious benefactor of the rogues in the secret room. Even calling him male was an assumption, as none of them had spoken to the mysterious mammal directly. It was generally supposed that 'he' was of the prey persuasion, but Obearon worked strictly through proxies and the odd distorted speakerphone call. When 'Faust' – better known as Doug Ramses – had followed the ewe to a small meeting room down the hall and saw a flat square speaker on the table, he surmised that he was in for the latter. A musk deer, however, stood in the corner to observe the proceedings, with a tablet grasped in one dangling hoof at his side. His species were unusual in that part of the city, but not unknown to Doug; pint-sized deer with large, pointed teeth that _really_ gave him the woolies.

"He's here," the musk deer reported.

"Excellent," came an electronically distorted voice. "Now, Faust, I'd like a progress report."

Doug rolled his eyes, drawing a warning look from the musk deer. Straightening up literally and figuratively, he answered, "Well, the new formula looks like a go. I've already started mixing batches up."

"Good, good. And the other part of our operation?"

"Yeah, we covered our tracks. Even if they find the other lab, they won't be able to dig up anything they can use on us, and I only left enough material behind to make it look like we abandoned the operation. I still think we should just blow it up like they did to the last one they found, though."

"Do you, now? Well, _I_ decide what measures are needed, and _when_." By the tone of his faceless boss's voice, garbled as it was, Doug had a feeling 'Obearon' was steepling his fingers. "You are certain no one can trace us?"

Suddenly, Doug wasn't as sure as he had been. The tone of Obearon's voice, and the musk deer's sudden tapping on the tablet screen, proved unsettling even to him. "Is there a problem?"

"Only what my associate is about to show you," came the eerily calm reply.

The musk deer stepped up and handed Doug the tablet, which was showing a news article. The hornless ram scanned it, and his nervousness grew. The sum total of the news story was that the ZPD had found new evidence on the case – and expected to find even more – _in his apartment!_

"They're bluffing," he asserted a little too quickly. "I never even brought any info on the scheme home."

By the angry tone in his voice, Obearon wasn't buying it. "Bluffing, you say? So you want me to just sit back and do nothing, all on the _assumption_ that _you_ left no _evidence?!_ "

"Hey, it's got to be a trap. You _have_ to see that. They made something up to try to lure me back there so they can catch me – and without me, you can't use the-"

"Silence, you idiot!" The deafening hush which came after this was worse than the outburst itself as Doug awaited further instructions. "Alright," Obearon snapped at last, "put the formula on hold for the moment. I have another assignment for you."

Doug was hardly Mr. Nice Ram, but as his boss outlined the new plan, even he felt some misgivings. "Well, if I had the right materials, sure, but-"

"Then get going. I'll get you the materials. You wanted more aggressive methods, so get to work!"

"But my apart-"

"It's _not_ your apartment anymore, simpleton! You blew that when you let them find you the last time, and as I said, _I_ decide what measures are necessary! Now go, and send me Tigerbalt!"

The ram scowled to mask his fear, but he was in no place to argue. "Sure thing, boss," he answered, turning to leave. As far as he was concerned, he couldn't get out of that room fast enough.

As soon as the door was shut, the musk deer coughed to signal his employer that it was safe to vent.

"Fools," fumed the faceless mastermind. "I'm surrounded by fools!" The worst of it, on his end, was that Doug was right about his place in the plan and the security it gave him. The prospect that the news release might not be a bluff was too dire to leave to chance. However, the long-term plan simply could not succeed without knowedge which Doug alone possessed. Both problems would need to be fixed... and soon.

* * *

The following evening, well after Judy would normally have finished her workday, she and Nick waited uneasily in a meeting room toward the back of the ZPD building. They would have preferred the lobby, but Nick had pointed out any mammal might come through on some pretense and take their presence as a cue something was up. Bogo had already left for the day, but the lieutenant in charge at that hour had agreed and sent them to their current place instead.

"Gotta say, I've never been on the inside of a police sting before," Nick admitted, trying with little success to make himself reasonably comfortable in an over-sized chair.

Sitting in an adjoining seat, Judy sipped a cup of black tea and hoped the extra jolt would prepare her for the night ahead. There was no telling when – or even if – one of the sheep would fall into the trap, which just made waiting for the team to get ready all the more annoying. She had ended her shift early and gotten a couple of hours' sleep, but she and Nick had still arrived early – and been assured that the officers preparing for the stakeout would be just fine. They both did their best not to take that as an insult.

To take her mind off of that, she answered Nick's question. "Well, any ideas as an outsider?"

"Yeah," he replied lightly, studying his claws. "Don't get shot." Catching the peeved look on her face, he lifted his paws and let his frivolity drop a few notches. "Sorry. Look, you'll do fine. Chief Buff... Chief Bogo thinks you can do it, and I've already seen you in tight spots. Take my word on this as an ex-crook: short of an atom bomb, whatever sheep shows up won't have anything you can't handle."

She had to smile at that. Nick could still be annoying on occasion, and his witty banter sometimes came at the wrong time, but behind all of that... well, she couldn't have asked for a better friend. "Alright, maybe I'm getting a little tense over nothing."

"Ah-ah-ah," he warned, waving an index claw. "Remember the first rule, Officer Fluff: never let them see that they get to you." Taking a sip of his coffee, he added, "Besides, you've got Officer Catano for backup. I've run into her a couple of times, and believe me: if there was any cop out there quick enough to bring me in – besides you – it would be her."

Judy blinked, suddenly gaining a newfound appreciation for her temporary partner. Any cop good enough o net a compliment from Nick must _really_ be something. "Wait, she almost got you?"

"Once or twice," he admitted. "But I'd rather not get into the details."

That was just like Nick, teasing and then cutting off the details. "No, go on," Judy urged. "I'm all ears."

He raised an eyebrow at the obvious rabbit pun, but shook his head. "One," he replied, ticking off on his claws, "you might have to testify. Two: it would take too long right now. Three: it was nothing she could stick me on, and I like it that way."

"Well," said a voice from the doorway, "I thought you looked familiar."

Both of them turned to see Officer Catano standing in the door, leaning against the frame with her paws propped on her hips in a, 'what are we waiting for' sort of way.

"Officer Hopps, I assume you're ready?"

Judy jumped a little; the quiet way cats moved, even ones so large, was something she still hadn't quite gotten used to. "Oh! Yes, yes I'm ready. Um, Cal- I mean Office Catano, this is Nick Wilde. Nick Wilde, this is-"

"Officer Catano," the cheetah interjected, regarding the fox with an inquisitive gaze. "We've met." She had heard that Judy's associate was a fox, but seeing him in person... well, that was another story. _I guess things really are changing,_ she thought. After the merest pause, she walked over and held out a paw to shake.

Nick took her gaze for skepticism and masked just how neatly he'dbeen caught, much as he had when Judy had called him out for lying to her about the Jumbo Pop. "Nice to meet you, Officer," he greeted, shaking her much larger paw. "I guess this means you two are heading out."

The cheetah nodded. "We are. I understand you're part of this too?"

"Yeah. Call me a local consultant."

"Mm-hm. Well, I suggest you wait or your group out in the lobby, now that I'm taking your escort. Stay safe, fox."

Nick watched the ladies leave and headed out to the lobby as advised, where he took his stand up on the rim of a planter by the main desk. Hooking a paw around the trunk of the small tree within, he strongly resembled a castaway searching the horizon for ships as he looked out for the surveillance crew – and tried not to think about how small and alone he felt now that Judy was gone.

Officer Catano led Judy out to the back of the station, where a large, nondescript white delivery van was parked. Already present were two big cats – a leopard and a lion – dressed in T-shirts and jeans; the typical attire of a pair of truckers. The lion cast a friendly wave and a wink at Catano. She waved back, but shook her head.

"We'll be riding there in the back," she explained, opening the door there and waving Judy in.

The back of the truck was obscured by a curtain consisting of overlapping strips of plastic, allowing easy passage but no visibility. "Why the curtain?" Judy asked as she slipped inside.

Callie climbed in after her. "So no one outside can see the box," she replied, taking a seat towards the front end of the cargo section. As Judy took her own seat and buckled in, she eyed the large cardboard box on the floor, open and holding a few assorted pieces of equipment. The cheetah explained that this was to be their ticket into the apartment building.

"We're assuming that the surveillance teams will notice if anyone is watching the place," she told Judy, "but since we can't be too careful, the undercover officers up front will be dropping us off in the crate, which anyone not in the know would think was a refrigerator."

"We're going in the box?" asked Judy, raising an eyebrow and scrunching her face.

Catano raised one in turn. "Unless you know a better way to get in without anyone noticing two strange mammals who didn't come out again."

Judy looked at the box again as the lion closed the doors at the back. It looked like they could both fit, but the trip was sure to be cramped. _Nick would probably make some wisecrack,_ she thought. _'Just like the old burrow back home,' he'd say._ Thinking of the very less-than-funny joke, and about informing Nick that her parents' home was actually _very_ spacious, lightened her mood a bit, but she needed to focus right then. "So, we get in there, you wait in one apartment, and I wait in Doug's?"

This drew a nod from the cheetah.

"You ladies comfy back there?" asked a voice over an intercom.

Catano pressed a button on the wall. "You know we're buckled in, Leroy. You closed the door, remember?"

This was answered with a clicking sound and a teasing, "Touchy, touchy. Sounds like someone has a rough time ahead."

As the exchange ended, Catano pointed a claw at Judy. "No comments," she warned. "Officer Leroy has problems staying focused on the job."

Judy raised an eyebrow. "And you?"

Callie's face turned sour, then shifted to resignation. "I don't mix police work and relationships. It always ends badly." She was silent for a moment, but before any questions could come her way she changed her demeanor and adopted a tone which seemed to say, 'So much for regrets.' "Anyway," she added, "Leroy will flirt with just about anyone female – so consider yourself warned."

The remarks, and the tone in which they were delivered, brought plenty more questions to Judy's mind. However, she could tell Callie didn't want to talk about it any further, so she moved along to going over their plans.

* * *

A half-hour later, Nick was still waiting in the lobby. He had donned his trademark sunglasses, less to look cool than to do a better job of shrugging off the dubious looks from passing cops. One bear gave him a double-take before passing on; Nick recognized him from an incident involving some fireworks. He passed the time by pecking away at his phone, wondering how the lowbrows giving him the stink-eye would react to seeing him in a uniform one day, and trying not to think about how antsy he felt sitting around the police station. He and law enforcement had always been like oil and water. Without Judy around to be the soap, he just felt... grungy. It gave a new – and none too pleasant – meaning to his preferred nickname, 'Slick.'

 _On the bright side, she's not calling me Junior Detective right now,_ he thought. Then again, at least if she were that would mean she was present – and having a friendly face would really have been nice at the moment.

He spotted a timber wolf and a jaguar headed his way – mostly the wolf, whose presence caused him to jump just a little.

"Kevin? Is that you?" Kevin was an old friend of Nick's, and fortunately a good deal more sociable than a certain _other_ Kevin who lived over in Tundratown. He was the only wolf Nick knew who didn't howl with or without provocation – earning him a modicum of greater esteem than Nick had for most wolves – and had once been part of a trading card gamers' club with the fox. In fact, they had often met in the very same restaurant where Nick had gone the other day to get takeout for his date with Taelia.

"Nick! So you really are here." Kevin seemed only slightly less surprised to see Nick. "Fancy seeing you in a place like this."

"My thoughts exactly," Nick replied with a glance around, though the truth was that Kevin had always been a bit more straight-laced than he had. Then realization sank in. "Wait, are you guys the surveillance team?"

Kevin grinned. "Yep, that's us. Meet Officer Chad Clawson," he added, gesturing to the jaguar. "Clawson, meet Nick Wilde."

The jaguar glanced down at Nick. "Hello," he greeted in a low voice.

Nick noticed with some confusion that the cat was dressed rather shabbily – more like someone who'd been homeless for a week or so than a police officer. He even smelled like he needed a bath. The contrast was all the more striking when one looked at Kevin's clothes, which were fairly neat and tidy without screaming 'police officer.'

Deciding not to question the fashion choices of a cat big enough to pin him under pa and use him for a floor rag, Nick turned back to Kevin. "You still into cards?"

Kevin shrugged. "More of a video gamer lately. Ever try Elder Tails? In high-def it feels like you're really there."

The fox made a mental note to look into that when he got around to setting up some gaming gear for his dog cave. He was about to say as much when Clawson cleared his throat.

"I hate to interrupt this," the cat noted, "but we're on a schedule."

"Right, right," Kevin coughed, waving Nick to follow them. The fox had to walk double-time to keep up with their longer strides, but they made handy blockers as the group passed through the lobby (not perfect ones, though; he did have to stop for a passing rhino). Besides that, the presence of an old buddy made the situation considerably less daunting.

Nothing more was said until they reached the van, which looked like a typical run-down minivan with tinted windows, sized for something a bit larger than either of the cops. Based on TV shows he had seen, Nick surmised that the inside would be full of state-of-the art equipment arranged with efficiency that would put Finnick's van to shame.

To his surprise, as Kevin guided him into the sliding door at the side, he found that the interior looked every bit like a normal minivan, save that a seat was missing in the back. "Where are all the gizmos?" he asked.

Kevin just smiled. "You'll find out when we get there. Right now we have to buckle up."

Nick followed the wolf's lead as Clawson got into the driver's seat and got them started.

"So," Kevin added, "I assume you know what's going on tonight?"

"Well enough," Nick replied, ticking off on his paws. "You watch the surveillance feeds, I help you screen anyone passing through, we relay any heads-up to Ju- I mean, Officers Hopps and Catano." Nick had caught himself just in time. It was one thing to be familiar with Judy in an informal setting, but he'd have to be more careful trying to get into this new career. Sure, he doubted Kevin would say anything to Chief Bogo, but who knew about Clawson? Then, of course, there was also the risk of slipping up where someone who _would_ point a finger might say something.

"Yeah, pretty much. We'll let them know if anyone suspicious enters the building. Once we arrive we'll tap in wirelessly to the traffic cams in the area, along with a few we've set up ourselves for the operation."

Nick knew about the new cameras. Not that he didn't trust the ZPD's work, or respected the decisions of his potential future superior, but he also knew the value of preparation. Which is why he'd casually cased their destination earlier that day and noticed several mammals putting up extra cameras under the guise of routine maintenance. As the van began to roll, he just hoped the sheep wouldn't be so savvy, or the whole trap could be a waste of time... or worse.

That was one thing he had learned from dealing with criminals nastier than himself: there was always an 'or worse.'

 **Well, there you have it. Sorry I took so long, but hopefully it was worth the wait. I also hope everyone enjoyed the lighter parts, because I think the upcoming chapters are going to get a bit more intense. What was all that talk about a new formula? And what about the mammal known as Obearon? Is it Miss Poisson hiding behind a clever facade, or the mystery mammal playing her against the ZPD? Will the plan to catch the runaway rams go over smoothly, or do the sheep have something in store?**

 **Well, I'll give you one spoiler: They are definitely up to something.**

 **I will confess that in this story I'll be lapsing a bit on my usual dedication to realism. I picked the brains of an actual cop or two, and it turns out most police stakeouts do not involve surveillance gear or vans. Most times it's just a cop sitting in an unmarked car; the vans and cameras are mostly for cop shows because they look cool. For this story, I decided to flex my fondness for subterfuge – but you'll find out more about that later on.**

 **Also, a quick explanation about musk deer: they are not classified as actual deer, and the males have teeth like saber-toothed cats (I promise, I'm not making this up). Don't ask me why now; I'll ask about it when I get upstairs.**

 **My thanks to the Guest reviewer on the last chapter, and to everyone who so helpfully pointed out both the good points and the room for improvement on previous ones. I've recently been trying to give closer heed to the point about Nick shrugging off various small acts of unkindness like ditching Judy to go on that date with Taelia. Although part of the point of this story is that I think it would take a gradual process for Nick to become the fox we know he will, I am now in the process of refining the past chapters to address that particular concern. So thanks, and remember that your feedback really does make a difference! :)**

 **There's one other change I've made that bears mentioning. For those who missed it before, I've shuffled a couple of things around; I moved what used to be chapters two, three, and four back (getting rid of the old Author's Note to make room) and slipped in another chapter (the new Chapter Four) to introduce a new character. All the other adjustments are relatively minor, but the new character will come into play later. I'm also going back and adding in a few details here and there to flesh out the existing cast; nothing crucial to the plot, but hopefully it will make the reading more enjoyable, particularly to those who liked the extra touches already there (BeecroftA, Foxlover91). Also glad Catano is of such interest; I haven't decided how much to build her character, but I do have plans for her both as an officer and as a private citizen (there's a hint or two of that in here).**

 **EASTER EGGS**

 **First, a fairly easy one: the literary names drawn on here**

 **A nod to _All Dogs go to Heaven_**

 **Kevin's game of choice**

 **Chad's last name (actually put this one in by accident, but it is an Easter Egg)**

 **And finally, the firecracker incident was something from another fanfic whose author and title I couldn't recall, so if anyone can tell _me_ where I found it, please do.**

 **As always, please feel free to fave, follow, and most of all let me know what you think!**


	13. Thirteen: Some Unexpected Twists

**This chapter proofread by winerp and anonymous. Thanks, guys!**

Quick announcement before the chapter: Happy Birthday! Wait, whose birthday is it, you ask? Well, mine, actually. Since I don't much like to ask for presents, though, I'm giving them! It was a bit of a rush job, but this chapter and the penultimate climax of my Balto fanfic, "White Legend," are my birthday gifts to you, the readers. It was a bit of a rush to get the edits done in time, but the pressure was very motivational and I'm pleased with the results. Hopefully you all will be too!

" **How hard could it be?"**

 **Juni Cortez,** _ **Spy Kids**_

(What, were you expecting the thirteenth chapter to _not_ be jinxed?)

Scant streetlights cast intermittent patches of yellow luminescence over the former neighborhood of the three fugitive rams. Through the dirty cones of light, a decrepit-looking van crawled along the street like a dying wind-up toy. The driver looked to and fro through luminous green eyes, somehow looking bleary despite the glow as he searched for a place to stop.

"That one," whispered a voice behind him.

He jerked and glanced back. In the seat behind him, a short mammal pointed to one of the nearby buildings. "Third driveway down. Nobody's in it. Count on it."

The driver gazed warily at the building, pulled past the driveway, and backed through a decrepit chain-link gate hanging open on a single hinge. The house, wedged between two taller structures as though it were hammered in to keep them from smacking together, certainly did look deserted. There wasn't a window left intact, and broken doors testified to long-ago ransacking. If someone had thrown in creepy music and a few cobwebs, the place would have been all set for a haunted house movie.

With a shrug, the driver pulled into the driveway past a ramshackle gate hanging on a single hinge. He parked, stretched, and yawned, displaying an impressive set of feline fangs. "Alright, you two get to work. I'll keep a lookout here."

In the back seat, Kevin undid his buckle. "How can you be sure this place is empty?" he asked.

Nick, who had already unbuckled, slipped down to the floor. "Because I know this part of town," he replied matter-of-factly. "The place has been deserted for years. Even most homeless animals hardly ever bother with it. Besides, anyone in there would be going in and out on foot, so the driveway's fair game."

Kevin nodded, seeing the logic in Nick's choice. "Well, even if we run into a conflict, that's Clawson's worry. Come on, Junior." He delivered the last word with a smirk and a wink. "It's time for show and tell."

The fox groaned. Evidently, word of his nickname had reached even the ears of his old card buddy. _Who's next?_ he wondered. _Chief Buffa… gah. Chief Bogo?_ He really needed to work on the name thing.

He soon forgot about embarrassing monikers when Kevin showed him the back. The driver's seat, accompanying shotgun spot, and the row behind them were the only real seats in the van. The rest were all just tops attached to a kind of roof which, while reminiscent of youngsters' play forts in its scale, was clearly designed and built by pros for just such jobs as this. From the front of the car – the only way one could see in thanks to the tinted windows – it looked just like a bunch of empty seats. Beneath that layer of deception, it was a little den totally invisible to the outside world. Kevin extracted a few boxes and bags from the crawlspace, which he piled on top of the cover. Now it looked as if the back seats were occupied by... well, as far as Nick could figure, it was supposed to look like the contents of a yard sale. Out of the tops poked mostly clothes, a few books, and even one of those statues of a Zoola dancer – which, for some reason, seemed to be holding a large hook in one paw.

"What's with the junk?" he asked.

Kevin grinned. "I think I'll see how long you take to figure that out. C'mon in."

Inside the crawlspace was a fair-sized monitor linked up to a laptop computer – solid state drive, as Kevin mentioned, to shield against any damage from use in a moving vehicle. The monitor was larger than the laptop's screen, but the appearance was considerably altered by the assortment of small images arranged all over it in a grid.

"Not what I expected," Nick admitted, looking around at the otherwise blank space. He refrained from asking where all the other monitors and keyboards and whatnot were hidden. He didn't even see a coffee pot, which he'd always fancied police must keep on hand for long stakeouts.

Kevin grinned, reading his expression and movements anyway. "You must have watched the TV shows with old technology. This little setup – I call it the play fort – has got all we need." He laid his paw on the laptop's touch pad. "The screens are set to work in conjunction," he explained, flicking the cursor from one to the other to demonstrate. "The big one shows all the cameras we've got in the area. Any we click on..." he clicked a mini-view on the grid, "... shows up in better size and clarity over here," he finished as the laptop screen bore out his explanation. Then he handed Nick a pair of headphones and donned a pair himself. "We've got plainclothes cops around the area. They radio in anything they spot, I – or rather we – check it on the cameras, and issue instructions as needed. You might call us the Command Center for this little mission."

Nick was definitely starting to see the attraction of law enforcement and its many toys. He had long thumbed his nose at the police, reveling in his ability to stay just outside of the law's reach. Now, as if Judy hadn't been proof enough, it was becoming ever clearer that when Zootopia's Finest got serious, they could really put on a good show. _Come to think of it…_

"So," he concluded, "the stuff up top makes the van look cluttered, which..." he lowered his voice, "combined with Clawson's getup and smell-"

"I heard that," called Clawson.

Nick coughed nervously. "So while we look out from back here, he poses as some guy kicked out of his home." He hated to admit it, but he was impressed. The setup was strikingly simple, but it was ingenious enough to beat anything he and Finnick had ever cooked up.

Kevin nodded. "Now you're learning. And that reminds me..." he took out an iPaw and hooked it up to a dangling cord. "This is our part of that."

Nick blinked. "Our part?"

"You'll see," Kevin grinned, "but only if we end up having to use it."

Abstractly, Nick wondered if this was how other mammals felt when he did one of his 'I-Know-Something-You-Don't-Know' schticks.

* * *

Inside the apartment building, in an unoccupied flat next door to Doug's, all was quiet. A couple of months' worth of dust covered the floor and untarped furnishings, attesting to long disuse and disregard. The only signs of broken loneliness were some pawprints, and a long, taped-up box which lay on the floor, untouched by time. It sat there unattended – at least until a claw poked up through the tape. With one long, fluid sweep, the claw slid half the length of the box. A quick push from inside stretched the slit the rest of the way and snapped the tape at the ends with a pop. The flaps flipped up, releasing Judy Hopps like a Jackalope-in-the-Box. Officer Catano was right behind her, sitting up like someone prematurely consigned to a coffin and wearing the expression of one who had just found herself as the victim of a joke.

"Nice of them to let us know we'd been dropped off," she remarked, looking around at the empty apartment.

Judy shook herself. Even with her small size, it had been a little cramped being stuck in the box with Callie. On top of that, though she didn't want to offend the cheetah by saying it, cat fur had never been on her Top Ten list of favorite smells. Still, she tried to put a nice face on things as she pushed her paws against the small of her back and inclined her hips forward. "Well, if they had tried to open the box from the outside, we might have had something else to complain about," she noted. "Besides, you fell asleep."

Without commenting on the prospect of being poked with a claw or a box cutter, Catano turned a few twists to loosen her long, lithe spine, then straightened her uniform. "Got to rest where you can in this line of work," she pointed out, "but thanks for waking me up."

"No problem," Judy replied, likewise fixing her clothes as she looked around. "So, I guess you're waiting in here?"

Catano nodded, extracting several items from the box and supplying Judy with hers: a rabbit-sized rappelling harness, night-vision goggles which were rather inelegant due to hasty re-sizing, and a few other assorted pieces of equipment. On the ride over she had explained the inclusion of the harness with a simple piece of advice: sheep, and a lot of other mammals, were atrocious at looking up. All Judy had to do was climb up the wall – preferably behind the door where any marks she made would be least noticed – and station herself at a high vantage point from which to strike. She'd have – and she knew this was a terrible pun – the 'drop' on whoever came to dispose of the evidence.

Judy buckled the harness and allowed Catano to double-check her work. For someone as independent as she was, it was a bit... well, unorthodox having someone tinker around with something so tightly fitted to her form. She figured she'd have to get used to it, but it was some relief to at least be tended by a female officer – and one from a different species at that – for her first time. Catano, for her own part, simply tugged a few straps here and there before nodding her approval and offering some last-minute instructions.

"If you miss with the stun gun and have to get physical, hit the emergency release," the cheetah advised. "You don't want anything he can grab."

Judy picked up the rest of the gear, clipped it all in place on the harness, and nodded. "Count on it," she promised, flashing a confident thumbs-up.

Callie raised an index claw. "And don't get cocky," she added sternly, pointing the claw at Judy. "You're a good officer, so don't blow it." Then she fished in her pocket and drew out a key which she tossed to Judy; the key to Doug's former dwelling.

Something in the cheetah's voice pulled Judy up short in a way few ever achieved. It reminded her of when Bogo had thrown down the ultimatum about what would happen if she failed to find Mr. Otterton in time. Maybe there was some of that same gravity in Catano's voice. It also might have been the cheetah's regard for her safety, or – riding on that last point's tail – the simple reminder that she, Judy Hopps, was every bit as capable of dying as anyone else. Ten to one, whoever showed up would be one of the sheep from that clash in the subway. They had tried darn hard to snuff her out the last time, and would no doubt be more than happy to remedy their past failure on round two.

Whatever it was, it weighed heavily on her mind as she slipped next door and went about getting herself into place. Once she was in, however, her tactical mind took over. Her eyes scanned the apartment, mapping out every relevant detail: where the target might go, objects she could use to her advantage, and angles from which she could strike.

She would _not_ mess this up. She had set her personal bar too high to botch an arrest now. The whole ZPD was counting on her to bring in this suspect.

For that matter, so was Ben's donut supply.

 _Focus, Judy!_ she mentally scolded herself, shaking her head. She went back to planning.

* * *

Out in the surveillance van, things had gone quiet. Clawson was listening to a portable radio as he pretended, for the benefit of any passers-by, to doze fitfully. Every now and then he would lurch and look around as if waking from a dream. In the back, Kevin assured Nick – who kept slipping out from below seat level to stretch – that the jaguar was wide awake through it all. Besides, Officer Clawson was just the window dressing. The real business was in the back.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though the real business consisted of watching a whole lot of nothing. In the hours they'd been there, Nick had observed several shady-looking exchanges, a few hookups, and a handful of would-be muggings quickly disrupted by officers supposedly just doing their regular patrols. So far, outside of tipping off those officers and making Nick wonder how often the regular patrols had this kind of fly-on-the-wall assistance, the surveillance van seemed to be about as much use as a life raft in the middle of a desert.

Nick was in the process of making his fourth or fifth trip up front, hoping to catch Clawson actually taking a snooze, when a sound sent him diving back into the 'play fort.' Someone was rapping on the window.

"Shh! Shhhh!" hissed Kevin, motioning for Nick to take over the computer while he manned the iPaw. They both listened as Clawson rolled down the window, smacking his lips and groaning as if he had just woken up.

"What?" asked the jaguar, and despite Kevin's assurances Nick suspected that the stranger had finally caught Clawson napping for real.

"What're you doing here?" came the unpleasantly toned reply. The voice had the same grating tone and irritability Nick had often met when visiting non-fox establishments. "You ain't from this neck of the woods."

Clawson continued to act confused and exhausted, blinking owlishly in response. "Oh, sorry," he yawned. "Was I in your way? I was just getting some rest, and-"

Kevin pushed a button, and a female voice suddenly sounded above him and Nick. "Honey, what's going on?"

Nick raised an eyebrow and flicked his ears. Then he realized that there must be a speaker hidden somewhere in the junk above their heads. _Darn good speaker, too,_ he thought. _It sounds just like a real mammal._

The jaguar looked over his shoulder at the non-existent passenger. "Nothing, sweetheart."

Another button yielded a sound like a baby feline crankily stirring in his sleep.

"You'll have to excuse us," Clawson added, speaking again to the stranger. In a forlorn tone even Nick could scarcely have seen through or beaten himself, the jaguar explained about losing his job and being evicted with his family. "We've been trying to find a place to stay, and I just had to..." he paused to yawn. "... had to stop and rest for a bit."

Kevin played a sound effect of the fictional baby feline beginning to cry, and the mother quickly trying to soothe her infant.

"Oh, now look," Clawson groaned. By the sudden odd, faintly smothered tone his voice took on, Nick guessed that he had dragged a paw down over his face in a helpless 'why me' gesture.

The stranger still sounded perturbed, but there was now a note of regret in his voice. "Hey, sorry about that, mac, but you do know this ain't a public parking area, right?"

"Yeah, I know, I know," the disguised cop replied impatiently. "Look, I just need a little more rest, okay? If there's a fire or anything, I promise I'll move."

Kevin cranked up the kit to all but uncontrollable wailing, largely drowning out the mother's voice.

The stranger, evidently, didn't want to continue debating in the presence of a crying child. "Okay," he agreed with a relenting sigh, "I guess that's alright – just this one time."

"Great. Thanks." Chad rolled up the window, and then kept an eye on the stranger. When the mammal was far enough away, he signaled Kevin to cut it out. The crying gradually died off, just like a real baby calming down.

Nick had to laugh. It had been a hustle worthy of him. "That was great," he chuckled.

Kevin grinned. "Thanks. My Illusion level's gonna hit 98 soon."

The whole thing was so funny that Nick almost missed the incoming report. "009 to CC," came a female cop's voice. "Incoming on SS."

"Check the south side of the place," Kevin commanded.

Nick's eyes were already scanning that set of mini-screens. Spotting motion, he clicked and surveyed the view that popped up on the main screen.

"Looks like one of our suspects, alright," Kevin concluded.

Nick nodded. "Yep. I'd know him anywhere." He keyed the radio. "Carrots, you and Spots better get ready. One of our sheep buddies is on his way – the one you almost ran down with the train car, I think. He's got a package, and I don't think it's pizza."

Kevin winced and shook his head as Officer Catano's voice testily answered, "The name's _Catano_ , fox. _Officer_ Catano."

 _Well I'll be,_ thought Nick as Kevin tried not to laugh at his bravado. _They found another Judy and she's not even a bunny._

"Thanks, Nick," Judy replied. Then came the other shoe. "And you know I'm going to have to clobber you for the 'Spots' thing on principle, right?"

Catano said nothing at the moment, but hoped Judy was serious. She never could put up with being called 'Spots.' Putting that aside, however, she continued her surveillance of Doug's room through a camera planted right by Judy's current position. Though she admired the bunny's pluck and hoped it would pay off unaided, she had never lost a partner in her entire career with the department. She didn't plan to start that night.

* * *

It was an interminable wait for those both inside and outside, hardly daring to move as they anticipated Jesse's arrival. They supposed he was taking his time, avoiding any possible run-ins with his former neighbors or maybe suspicious that there would actually be a trap waiting for him. The truth was actually much less interesting, though the implications were dire. Despite having been commanded to go straight to Doug's apartment, do his job, and get the heck out of there, Jesse first went to his own former dwelling to retrieve some of his posters and other odds and ends. He had three reasons. One: he didn't like Obearon much and, being confident that he could smuggle his things back into the hideout, was glad enough to thumb his nose at the Mystery Boss' orders. Two: Life in the hideout was boring as heck.

The third reason was the one with dire implications: he knew that, depending on the potency of the package he was to leave at Doug's, he might not have another chance to collect his possessions... _ever._

At the academy, Judy had learned that there was a drawback to being a rabbit where field work was concerned. Nature had given rabbits a heightened flight response, meaning their adrenaline glands could kick into high gear at the drop of a hat... and burn through said substance in a very short time. A system like that had served her well where running was involved – like chasing down Weaselton or being chased by Mr. Manchas. For waiting like a spider in a web, though... well, if nature had meant for her to do that, it would have given her spinnerets.

Never one to settle for the paw that fate had dealt her, she had learned to cheat her body's systems – at least in practice. The trick she had taught herself was to focus her mind on a given stimulus and screen out all other possible triggers. In this case, she was waiting for the door below her to open and the sheep in question to walk in.

In concept and even in training, it was simple enough. _In situ_ , she was hard-put to keep up that kind of focus and force herself to be calm when every hair on her fluffy little body was screaming, _'Let it begin! Let it begin!'_ In a nutshell, it was exhausting. She was breathing as slowly and quietly as she could, holding her mouth open wide enough so the air wouldn't whistle through her teeth or lips. The only sound she couldn't muffle was the beating of her heart. It had been soft before, like a watch wrapped in cotton, but at the announcement that their sheep was on the way, it had strengthened in pace and intensity.

 _Thump-thump._

 _Thump-thump._

 _THUMP-thump._

 _THUMP-THUMP!_

 _THUMP-THUMP-THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP!_

Part of her was convinced that the suspect would hear it all the way out in the hall.

Fortunately, he didn't. She almost gasped when the door opened. With a quick movement that belied his clumsy build, Jesse slipped in and shut the door behind him.

Judy could barely contain herself as the ram flicked on the lights. Thanking her lucky stars that the ZPD had picked goggles with an auto-response to sudden light changes, she paused while the suddenly darkened image cleared, letting her eyes adjust. This was her moment! Quietly, she slipped her stun gun out of the holster and took aim, steadying it with her left paw for insurance. She had already clicked off the safety; ill-advised, maybe, but this way no sound would betray her. Slowly, she raised the weapon and made ready to fire.

Unfortunately, she had neglected to allow for the window. Glancing around for any signs of traps or an ambush, he caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass and jumped forward just as she pulled the trigger.

The _thunk_ of her dart lodging in the floor was almost instantly followed by a much louder report as the sheep rolled upward and fired – with an actual gun.

BLAM!

The first shot missed, but Judy wasn't about to give him time to recover. Flipping the release on her harness, she swung by the straps and dodged two more bullets, landing at the top of a bookshelf and knocking it away from the wall. Jesse yelled and scrambled out of the way, dropping the gun as the shelf slammed home on top of it and the package, which he had dropped in his roll seconds before. Judy rode the top of the shelf halfway down, then leaped, bounced off the far wall, and landed in a crouch on three paws with one forepaw drawn back.

"Let's see how tough you are without a weapon," she taunted.

"Let's see how tough _you_ are without a train!" he yelled in reply, charging straight at her. Judy sprang straight up, came down on his lowered head, and jumped again, using the recoil from her second jump to send Jesse's face into the floor.

At first it seemed very one-sided. Judy struck blow after blow, shooting in quickly to flatten the ram before rebounding and leaving only air for him to hit in turn. Right hook! Tornado kick! Strike! Strike! Strike! Jesse was strong and built to withstand blows which would put her in a body cast, but she had speed and training.

There was, however, one very dangerous flaw in her strategy. Her blows were strong enough to take down a rhino, but rhinos didn't give ground; they took the full force of any blow right into their massive bodies. With each blow she struck, Jesse rolled, taking the brunt of it on his horns or letting his wool deaden the worst of the impact. Judy had virtually no experience against Jesse's style, but Jesse was a veteran of countless bar fights with more different species than he could remember. He had experience. She was wearing him down bit by bit, but he only needed one good shot – and he got it.

Tired of waiting for him to go down, Judy zipped towards a wall and rebounded. It didn't have the same give as the ropes around the ring at the academy, but she was sure she could do a good enough Rhino Rammer (her pet name for the move she had invented). Flying toward him like a missile, she brought her feet around, planning to slip them under his horns this time and get him on the chin.

He rolled back, just inches from impact, and hurled one hardened fist straight into the middle of her body. Pain knifed through Judy from spine to stomach, and her elegant leap turned into a tumble, knocked upward by the force of Jesse's blow. Her landing would have been inelegant for a rag doll.

Jesse rose to his feet, cracking his knuckles as he approached her, savoring the moment. He'd endured endless ridicule when it got around that he had been beaten by a bunny and a fox. Now, watching Judy struggle to rise, he had to give her some credit for just being able to move her legs. He'd put other sheep in wheelchairs before with punches like that one.

"So, this is the cop that saved the city, huh?" he gloated.

Still wincing, Judy rose to her feet and doubled up her paws. Jesse chuckled, let her charge, and sent her flying with a sweep of his horns.

"I guess you're not so tough without-"

He barely had time to register the blur in his peripheral vision before Catano struck, kicking him exactly where Judy had been trying for.

Officer Catano had been her high school girls' soccer team's MVP for three years running, and she'd lost none of her skill in the near decade since. The force of the kick flung the ram halfway across the apartment. He was followed an instant later by the feline as she landed on top of him in a pounce forceful enough for a cat twice her size, with a single forepaw driving his head against the floor. Keratin cracked as his horns were slammed into the boards, and for several seconds he was utterly dazed.

"Hopps, are you alright?!" barked Catano.

Judy took a few weezing breaths, patting her side to check out her ribs. "Nothing's broken," she replied. "I'll be fine."

Catano had some doubts on that, but she was satisfied that a few moments would not kill her partner. "Stay down. I'll take care of this punk and be right with you." Rising to her knees, she transferred her grip to Jesse's horns – one of which was now a mere half of its former length – and held him at arm's length with a disdainful look. She rose completely and began to walk along the wall, knocking in seemingly random places with her free paw as she carried her stunned captive.

"You know," she told him with the air of a teacher rebuking a schoolyard thug-in-training, "slamming a female around is about the most pathetic thing a male can do – especially with a female smaller than himself. No offense, Hopps. So if you think that's somehow macho, then I think you need a little education. Let me introduce you to a real _stud."_

Whirling around faster than Judy could track, Catano slammed the sheep's face into the wall. His horns punched right through the sheet rock like it was paper, taking off the tip of the other horn in the process.

His face met with something a teensy bit more solid. Even Judy winced. For all the mishaps she'd run into as a kit on the farm, she had never smacked her face into a two-by-four at _that_ kind of speed.

The cheetah let her prize drop, planting one foot in the center of his back. Jesse, apparently, had either learned his lesson or was just in too much pain to resist. Catano keyed her radio. "Got him."

Several congratulatory remarks came through, along with a few inquiries about calling it a night.

"We might still need Wolfard," Catano replied. "The rest of you can go – and that includes the fox. Tell him he'll be hearing from 'Spots' later."

In spite of the pain she was in, Judy half-winced and half-laughed. On the off-chance she ever wanted to annoy Callie, now she knew how to do it. She was beginning to get her breath back as Catano cuffed the sheep, and something began to turn over in her brain. She wasn't sure if it was just the uncharacteristic sass from her normally business-like colleague, or perhaps her own head had taken a harder hit than she thought, but the next words out of her mouth were out of place even by her offbeat standards.

"That lecture sounded a lot like Major Friedkin," the bunny noted, recalling her tough-as-nails polar bear instructor.

"From the academy?" asked Callie, shrugging. If the remark surprised her, she gave no sign. "Makes sense. She adopted me when I was ten."

"Oh." Judy knew some mammals adopted outside their species, but she'd never actually met someone from such a family and known about it. For that matter, she had to wonder what it would be like for a savannah mammal to be raised by a polar bear – especially the major. "Was she a-"

"Friend of my parents?" Callie's reply came just a little too quickly, and Judy could see fur starting to stick out from the cheetah's body. Then Callie calmed down. "She was... but I'd rather not talk about it. Besides, we have something more important to worry about."

Though she doubted it was what Callie meant, Judy suddenly remembered something else. "Um, Catano, about that last-minute save... you don't suppose-?"

"Save it," the cheetah replied, lifting the toppled book case and looking underneath. With a scowl, she finished putting the shelf back in place and crouched over a package. "I hate being right," she muttered, putting her ears back.

* * *

Back in the van, Nick and Kevin slapped paw pads. "And that's a wrap for the night," Kevin announced as he closed down the equipment. "Go ahead and buckle up. I'll pack up back here and be right with you."

Sure enough, it couldn't have been more than a minute before the wolf emerged, put 'Clawson's belongings' away, joined him. "Let's go, Chad," he announced.

"Yeah," Nick agreed, feeling the urge to celebrate the victory with a good ribbing. "That shower's not getting any hotter."

Clawson gave him a baleful look in the mirror. "Funny, fox," he replied, muttering as an afterthought, "My wife hates it when I have to stink up for these things."

The canids in the back exchanged playful grins, but grew more serious by the time they got back to the station. Both of them, though initially jazzed and energized by the victory, were feeling the effects of the late hour. It was pushing three in the morning.

"It was good to have you along," Kevin said later as they parted ways, holding up his fist for a bump.

Nick smiled and returned the gesture. "Yeah, it was pretty fun. Gotta admit, I've never seen this side of the law before."

Kevin shrugged. "Hope you get to see more of it. In fact, let me see your phone a sec. I'll give you my number." Receiving the device and tapping in his digits, he added, "If this case takes a technical turn, it might pay to have an inside line with the computer department. Mind giving this to Judy too?"

"Will do," Nick promised. Then, as Kevin turned to leave, he laughed a little and added in a slightly louder voice, "Gotta admit, I figured the first 'give her my number' request I'd get would be from a buck."

Kevin chuckled a little at the joke. "Ee-yeah, somehow I think she'd prefer a guy closer to her own size."

Nick wiggled his eyebrows. "Well, maybe her taste runs more toward wolf."

At that, Kevin blanched just a little. "Uh, Nick, don't you think we should keep this profess..."

It was too late. By the time he'd turned around, Nick Wilde was nowhere in sight.

Kevin sighed, put a paw to his face, and ran it down his muzzle in wearied exasperation. "One of these days, I'm going to nail his paws to the ground," he muttered, walking away and shaking his head.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Ramses' apartment, the mood was not so jovial. Catano had searched Jesse and found him in possession of both a phone and a 'wire,' or listening device. While she disabled the wire and checked Judy for any serious damage, Wolfard was examining the contents of Jesse's package. "Lucky for you two our little friend here never got to arm this," he noted to his fellow officers with the gravest of moods. Studying some cylinders, he added, "Lucky for him, too. If these canisters had gone off by accident, it would have blown this whole apartment right out of the building. The chain reaction could have brought half the place down, too."

Judy gasped and threw a look at Jesse, who said nothing. She had known the ram was brutal, but he could have killed dozens of his own neighbors!

Catano just nodded, guessing Judy's thoughts. "Whoever's running this now, they're serious," she announced. "Deadly serious."

Her words were borne out a moment later when the phone she had taken from Jesse rang. Covering the ram's mouth, she motioned for silence and accepted the call.

"Good evening, officers," came a digitally corrupted voice which made them think of their chief speaking through a fan.

The similarity was so strong that Judy half-whispered, "Chief Bogo?"

The phone must have had a pretty strong microphone, for this was met with a derisive bark of a laugh. "Ha! No need for insults."

Both of the larger officers glanced unpleasantly at Judy for making herself audible, but Catano waved for her to do the talking since her voice had already been heard.

The mastermind on the other end, however, wasn't finished. "I must say, you put on quite a show, and I do regret that I could not see as well as hear it. Officer Hopps, is it?"

Judy frowned and folded her arms. "Good guess. And you are?"

He chuckled in reply. "Oh, I'm not foolish enough to tell you that. You may call me Obearon."

Judy would have liked to call him a lot of things, but she held her tongue.

"I must congratulate you on the capture of my employee. He doesn't go down easily, I know that much. It was a game as old as time, but you played it commendably; a most impressive performance, I must say. All the same, I believe this makes it my turn. You in the ZPD have many who look to you for security, confidence, and even guidance. As it happens, so do I. So here are the rules of _my_ game: for every blow you strike to those who are looking to me, I will strike at those who are looking to you."

This time, Judy couldn't hold back. "You leave the people of Zootopia out of this!" she yelled, grabbing the phone and putting it right up to her face.

Obearon laughed, carrying no hint of joy but plenty of amusement – and a little insanity. "Don't bother trying to track this call, either. Both the phone you have and the one I am using are new and disposable." He laughed again, as if he could see the enraged look on the rabbit's face. "Welcome to the game, Judith Hopps. Play well."

The call ended. Judy, her mouth firmly shut, slapped the phone back into Catano's paw and pulled out her own.

"What are you doing?" asked Wolfard.

"Letting Nick know what we're up agai-hey!" she yelped in protest as Catano snatched her phone from her paws.

The cheetah's face was grim. "Nothing personal, Judy, but we're not telling anyone about this until we run it by Bogo."

"But-!"

"She's right," added Wolfard. "Something like this could throw the whole city right back where it was before you nabbed Bellwether. Until we have some idea where the hit might come, it won't do any good for the word to get around."

Judy's paws clenched in frustration. "Fine," she snapped, holding out her paw for her phone.

Catano returned it, and for a moment some rays of genuine penitence showed through the cloudy haze of severity. "I'm sorry, Hopps," she said. "If you trust Wilde, then so do I, but this is larger than all of us put together. So until Bogo says otherwise, we keep quiet."

 **Oh, yikes. Now what?! Looks like Obearon's not pulling any punches. What's the ZPD going to do now that they know they're not just mopping up remnants of Bellwether's plot? Well, unfortunately the only way to answer those questions – and one other I'm not mentioning just now – is to keep reading.**

 **There are also – I suspect – some people wondering about the gun thing. I actually spent a long time debating the kind of weapons in Zootopia, but to make it simple I figured guns made sense – and besides,** _ **Batman: The Animated Series**_ **was loaded with firearms and had a great gritty suspense vibe much like what I'm after, so it made little sense to break formula.**

 **For those keen on hearing more, good news: my other ongoing project, White Legend, is done except for the epilogue, so I should soon be able to focus my fan fiction efforts almost entirely on this story. My deepest thanks to everyone who's been following this. I see by the comments on the last few chapters that the new Chapter Four was a success – however modestly so – and that this story seems to have picked up its first (known) binge-reader. As a special thanks to all of you, and a tribute to men and women at arms everywhere, I'm making plans for a short companion project – probably not more than five chapters – to be released around the 4** th **of July if all goes well. What could that have to do with this, you ask? Well, you'll just have to keep following this to find out... but I'll give progress updates to the first person who comments on each chapter released here (sorry, not counting Guest reviews).**

 **Easter Eggs**

 **Moana**

 **Skyrim**

 **Pokemon: Mewtwo's Return**

 **Bolt**

 **Classic literature**

 **Balto**

 **Batman: The Animated Series (no, it's not the gun thing)**


	14. Fourteen: Back in Business

Just a quick FYI before we start: for some reason, the last chapter glitched when I tried to upload it, so it looks as though a lot of you missed the e-mail alerts and may need to backtrack just a bit.

Incidentally, I saw your responses to my recent poll, and since you guys like my OCs so much I'll be posting some profiles in the near future, with a chance later on of side projects if I can make them work. No big spoilers, but hopefully it'll round things out a bit.

 **This chapter proofread by winerp and anonymous. Thanks, guys!**

" **Nature, like us, is sometimes caught without her diadem."**

 **Emily Dickinson**

Judy felt a little stiff the next morning as she headed for the precinct. She did her best to convince herself that this was only because she hadn't slept well, and _maybe_ a bruise or two had developed from Jesse's punch. She was only twenty-four, for crying out loud. Hard knocks or no, she was too _young_ to have a bad back.

 _I just didn't get enough sleep,_ she told herself. _Late night, gunshots, bad back, threatening phone call, guilt over-_

"Oh no," she groaned, having not yet reached the fountain out in front of the police station. "The bet!"

In all the excitement, she had completely forgotten about her deal with Chief Bogo. Now, heart sinking, she wondered how she was going to break the news to Ben. Somehow, 'Remember how you said you'd been meaning to lose weight and just never got to it?' didn't sound like the best way to go about it.

She coughed, preparing herself like she had for her graduation speech – except that there was no pride in her chest this time; just cramping in her stomach. "Hey, Ben," she tried, making an unsuccessful effort to force her ears up. "I, uh – I have something to-"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The despairing cry rolled out through the front of the building and across the open space in front. Mammals several yards behind Judy turned and stared in confusion while she winced and sucked in a breath. She knew two things for sure.

One: Someone had told him already.

Two: This was the start of a really, really bad day.

At first, Judy couldn't even see Ben when she entered the lobby. The front desk was surrounded by officers, trying in vain to offer a modicum of comfort. The cheetah's voice, however – begging and pleading for someone to tell him that Judy _hadn't_ lost the bet – was loud and clear despite cracking at times. Judy barely had the heart just to walk up to the crowd, but her feet carried her there of their own accord. As she tapped on Officer Fangmeyer's leg, it almost seemed as if her paw were being drawn by a string like some marionette.

The tigress paused in the middle of offering to treat Ben to lunch – a proposition few could afford or stomach – and looked down. "Oh, Hopps," she greeted. It was hard to read her expression, but Judy got the feeling Fangmeyer blamed her for the whole fiasco.

"J...Judy?" came a weak and weepy voice.

Fangmeyer stepped away to the right, and Officer McHorn moved left, giving Judy a clear view of her friend. He looked even worse than he sounded, like a shipwrecked sailor who had just screamed himself into exhaustion only to watch as a passing ship continued deafly on its way.

"Ben..." said Judy softly, her ears hanging down her back. "I'm... I'm sorry. I tried to take him alone, but I guess... I guess I just wasn't up to it."

For a long moment, there seemed to be no telling what Ben might do. Just a second later, whatever reaction he had was rendered moot as a baritone voice broke in like a battering ram.

"Alright, what's all this?"

All eyes turned to the imposing figure of Chief Bogo. Even with his arms hanging impassively at his sides, one hoof clutching several folders, he looked forbidding and unapproachable.

"Chief..." someone whispered. It might have been Clawhauser. For all Judy knew, it might have been her own voice; her mind and body suddenly seemed that far apart.

Perhaps it had been Judy, for Bogo's attention flicked down to her. "Officer Hopps. Glad to see you in one piece. I understand you got hit pretty hard last night."

Judy's shoulders slumped. She had tried to talk Catano into glossing over the fact that it hadn't been a solo takedown after all, but the cheetah had pointed out that she didn't lie to her superiors. She'd also explained that chances were ten to one Jesse would blab anyway just from knowing Judy wanted it kept quiet, and letting the truth be known was important for Judy's well-being. She hadn't clarified that last part, but she _had_ apparently reported everything just as it happened.

Ben was a bit surprised. He had known Judy needed backup to bring Jesse in, but someone actually _clobbering_ her seemed unthinkable. "Judy?" he asked numbly.

No one present thought Ben was capable of moving as fast as he did then, but the cheetah fairly pounced on Judy and picked her up at arms' length, staring her frantically in the face.

"Are you okay?! Did they hurt you?! How many were there? How big were-?!"

"Clawhauser!" snapped Bogo, pointing a hoof at the floor. "She already needs _one_ spine adjustment, and as far as I know that's all she needs. Now put Officer Hopps down and act like a professional before you add to the problem!"

Clawhauser reluctantly obeyed, and Judy straightened her uniform. Standing as straight and tall as she could, she stared up at the chief. "With all due respect, sir, I think Ben's just a little antsy. Maybe if you eased the do-"

"No." Bogo's voice, as usual, left about as much room for debate as a boot coming down on an ant mound; one made by the really, really _small_ kind of ant. He looked up at Clawhauser as he delivered the next bit of news. "A deal is a deal. Besides, I don't have time to renegotiate things. Right now I should be in the briefing room – _along with all these other officers," –_ he added pointedly, casting his eyes over the officers around the counter. His gaze swept them from their spots like a broom, sending the whole crew off to the bullpen.

"Except for you, Hopps."

Judy's ears popped up and swiveled backwards as she froze mid-step in following the other officers. "What?" she asked, turning the rest of herself around.

"As I understand it, you took a pretty hard blow to the back last night. Department policy says you need to have that taken care of." Leafing through his docket, he added, "Besides, you seem to have forgotten that today is Saturday, which you have off this week."

"What? But I... the case..." Judy's surprise turned to annoyance as she remembered that Chief Bogo was right. "Chief, I appreciate that, but I'd _really_ like to just get on with the case."

"No." Chief Bogo found the paper he was looking for, extracted it, and handed it to Judy. "I had a feeling you might show up, so I came prepared. Here's the address of a chiropractic office on Baobab Street. I already told them to expect you."

Judy wanted to protest, but when Bogo's stern expression faltered for a moment, giving way to a look of something like worry, her objection died away. She knew Bogo was right; ZPD policy required that serious injuries be examined and treated as needed promptly. The confusion of the night before had only delayed the necessity – and besides, the pain in her back wasn't going away on its own.

"Alright, I'll go," she relented. Then, determined not to back down completely, she added, "but nothing in the manual says I can't go over a case off the clock."

The usual just-bit-into-a-lemon look came back to Bogo's face. "Fine. Just remember, no sensitive information gets discussed with non-officers." Seeming to guess she wondered why he would bring that up, he added, "The fox seems to have overlooked your schedule too. He's waiting outside in his car."

Judy's temper flared. "Nick would make a great officer if you'd give him the chance."

Bogo turned away to go about his business, but his voice was as clear as if he'd been speaking straight into Judy's face. "Perhaps he will, Hopps, but he's not an officer yet. He'll need to earn that chance just like you did."

She glared daggers at his back as long as her own allowed it. "He will," she promised.

It was hard to look stone-faced and defiant as one walked towards the door with a back injury, but somehow Judy managed it anyway. The only thing that stopped her was Ben's voice. "Hey, Judy?"

She turned, her ears dropping. To her surprise, however, Clawhauser was smiling It was only a tiny smile, but it was unmistakably there. That surprise kept Judy silent until the cheetah spoke again. "Thanks."

Somehow, the gratitude only made her feel worse. "Thanks for what? I let you down."

Ben almost acknowledged that she had, but held it back. "You did your best," he admitted. "Besides, I'd feel a lot worse if you came back in a wheelchair. Just get back in shape and solve the case, okay?"

In the time she had known him, Judy had come to take Clawhauser for a nice guy without much strength – in heart or body – to handle tough situations. This new side of him was surprising, but heartening. "You bet," she smiled, flashing him a thumbs-up. "And for what it's worth, you'll be a bigger mammal at the end of this."

He kept up his smile until her back was turned, then let his eyes and paws stray to his stomach. "Only in spirit, though…" he added forlornly.

* * *

Judy tried to take some comfort in Nick's demeanor as she approached his car, but that effort, too, seemed destined to backfire. The fox's trademark expression – calm, confident, and slightly perky when Judy was around – dropped a bit when he saw her sour face.

"Wow," he remarked. "Look, if this is about not calling after the case last night-"

She groaned, raising a paw. "It's not. Just a rough morning."

"Gotcha." Nick refrained from asking further questions on the matter, which Judy appreciated. Secretly, he just guessed that she would fill him in anyway – which, naturally, she ended up doing. She kept quiet about the gun, which she wasn't quite ready to talk about just yet, and the phone call, which of course she wasn't _allowed_ to discuss. All the rest, however, came out of her mouth on the way to the clinic.

"Poor Ben," Nick remarked at the end, shaking his head. He tapped one index finger on the steering wheel, thinking over the situation. "I wonder if we could…"

"Not if it's going to hurt your chances of getting into the ZPD," she headed him off.

He drew his lips inward. "It probably would," he admitted reluctantly.

There was little more to be said, especially since they were at that moment arriving at the establishment in question. It was part of a quiet little strip mall right about where Baobab entered the Rainforest District, built in a U shape around a parking area. The building had an overhang shading a sidewalk which ran along the front, with regularly spaced pillars holding up the overhang. The pillars resembled tree trunks coiled about with ivy and serpentine forms, though the style of the carvings was rather boxy and angular. The front part of the facade, meanwhile, had a geometric backdrop of gray stone and wooden signs advertising the businesses present. The office they were after sat between a garden store and a thrift shop, and advised on the door that it was run by doctors Clawmeron and Stompson. Underneath that was a note in parentheses: 'Don't let the names fool you. We'll treat you right.'

"I hope their practice is better than their jokes," Judy observed.

"Well, I guess there's no sense putting it off," Nick noted, getting the door.

As Judy stepped inside, she was met with the sound of two mammals arguing – one doing an admirable job of remaining calm, considering the other's vehemence.

"I pay good money for these appointments, and you're putting me on _hold?!"_

"Ma'am, please, I'm not putting you on hold. Dr. Stompson is just caught in traffic, and he'll be here as soon as he can. And, much as I hate to make a fuss, we _have_ been over the _food_ policy before."

As the pint-sized pair entered, they saw the debaters: a blue-clad serval looking patiently up at a female hippo. The hippo's face was hidden by the angle at which she stood, but the girl calf at her side with a large lollipop stick protruding from her mouth gave Judy a sense of deja vu.

"You're here, aren't you?" the mother hippo demanded. "Look, I have a schedule, and-"

"Miss O'Glommel, I simply can't handle a spine your size," the serval iterated, having clearly brought this point up more than once. Catching a glimpse of the two mammals standing just inside the door, he added, "Besides, I have a priority patient to tend to who _is_ in my size range. Dr. Stompson will be more than welcome – I mean, happy – to take care of you as soon as he gets here." He leaned to one side to signal Judy. "Right this way, ma'am."

"Oh, sure," the mother hippo ranted. "I'm here when the door opens, and you can't keep my appointment, but some prior..." she trailed off when she caught sight of Judy, who tried not to make eye contact.

Nick, on the other hand, could not resist taking a snapshot of the look on Mama Hippo's face... right before her daughter dropped the lollipop.

"Have a nice day," he called cheerfully, throwing off a salute as he followed his friend.

As soon as they were down the hall and into a small room on the right, the serval let out a breath and sagged as if he had partially deflated. "Much as I hate to put patients on hold," he admitted, "I appreciate your showing up when you did."

Nick greeted this with a smug grin. "Eh, it's good for her."

"You know that hippo?" asked Judy just before she remembered the inevitable reply.

"I know everyone." Then, leaning in for a mock-conspiratorial whisper, he added, "And if you think Jumbeaux is a jerk to foxes, you should meet _that_ lady sometime." He yanked on the back of his shirt collar, bugged his eyes, and stuck his tongue out to one side, miming his opinion of the hippo quite expressively.

The chiropractor cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I think we have more important things to take care of than gossiping about a patient, whatever her attitude. Officer Hopps, I presume? I heard from the ZPD that you were coming. Doctor Clawmeron, at your disposal – but just call me Kirk, please."

"Yeah," she replied, shaking paws with him, "And you can call me Judy."

"Good. Just let me set up the table, and we'll get down to business."

Judy had been so preoccupied with the conversation that she hadn't even noticed the room in which they now stood. The walls were painted spring green and hung with a few framed certificates and numerous diagrams of backbones and nervous systems. Along the long far wall, next to a large cabinet, a metal rack supported a hanging replica of a backbone which looked like something from a science classroom. Judy wasn't quite sure what kind of spine it was supposed to be, but it was of median size and lacked the extra vertebrae suggestive of a feline, which narrowed it down just a bit.

At one end of the room, there were a pair of desks – one serval-sized, the other elephant-sized (evidently used by Dr. Stompson) – and each equipped with all the office basics: computers, family photos, and so on. On the wall above the desks hung a large bulletin board covered with photos of the two chiropractors – sometimes alone, other times together – with various patients. Nick noticed a certain red wolf among the familiar faces, and both he and Judy recognized the Otterton family as well as Officer Catano and one or two other cops.

By the time they returned their attention to Kirk, he had gone to a collection of tables in various sizes nested underneath one another. He extracted the smallest one, which on closer inspection looked much like the padded sort a massage parlor might use. "Judy, if you would? Just lie down on your stomach, and we can get started."

"Alright," she sighed, climbing up on the table as directed. "Can you make it fast? I have a case to get back to."

He chuckled as he began gently poking up and down her back. "I won't dawdle, but I don't rush these adjustments – especially not on police off- ooh." Though he was out of Judy's line of sight, the cringe in his voice was audible. "I think that explains your visit. You take a hit?"

Judy winced as he hit a bruise. "Yeah," she groaned. "Can you not poke me there?"

"Sorry. That's right where the biggest need is, but I'll do what I can. Anyway, I understand your impatience. Most officers are like this on their first adjustment." He checked the rest of her back one more time. "You're in pretty good shape other than that one hit. Just a few minor adjustments. Take a deep breath, please."

Judy inhaled, and he placed his paws on her back crossed over each other as if he were going to do CPR.

"And let it out slowly."

She breathed out, and he pushed down. She felt as well as heard a couple of pops from her upper back, though surprisingly they didn't hurt.

"How long is this going to take?" she asked.

"That depends on whether you want a subluxation and vertebral fusion," he replied.

"Subla-what?" asked Nick from the doorway.

"A subluxation is a misalignment of the spine," he explained in a tone which hung on the fine line between patient and curt. "If it's ignored too long, it can lead to fusion, which..." The serval paused and put a paw to his chin, thinking for a moment. "In layman's terms, let's call it back decay. Given enough time, the bones can break down and run together, resulting in permanent fusion."

Both the fox and the rabbit winced. Judy wasn't sure about Nick, but in her own mind's eye she had a mental image of herself permanently hunched over like her grandfather. "In that case, take your time."

"Thank you," Kirk replied, going back to work. He repeated what he had done a few more times, apologizing when he had to do so over Judy's bruises. Then he had her lay on her side so he could push her shoulders one way and her hips another just a bit, first on one side and then the other. To finish, he had her lay face-up on one of his paws while he pushed down on her stomach with the other.

"Aaand, one more deep breath... let it out..." he pushed down, and a few more pops came out. "There, that should do it. How do you feel?"

She gingerly sat up, leaned forward, and ran her paws along her lower back. "Wow, that _does_ feel better," she admitted. The bruises were still there, but at least she felt like she could _move_ again.

Kirk smiled cheerfully. "Glad to be of service. Well, I'm sure you have work to get back to, so I'm guessing you won't stick around for the complimentary acupuncture?" He raised an index finger with the claw protruding, then chuckled at the look on Judy's face. "Just a joke," he assured her. "But please, stop in anytime."

Out front, Judy took care of the deductible for her appointment. Midway through, Dr. Stompson's arrival rescued her from the hippo's irritated gaze.

"Happy adjusting, Dwayne," called Kirk with a cheerful wave.

The elephant simply glared. "Let me know if Francine stops in," he muttered.

As the pachyderms disappeared, Judy threw a questioning look to Kirk at the mention of her colleague. He, in turn, merely shrugged carelessly. "You probably know about as much as I do about it. By the way, it would be best if we scheduled you for a follow-up appointment in three weeks or so. That adjustment will do for the present, but it's better to be thorough."

As they took care of that detail, Judy could only hope that by the time the follow-up arrived the case would be finished.

* * *

Judy's mood was rather spoiled on the way back when a text came in from Bogo advising her not to bother coming for info on the interrogation. Lawyers were gumming up the works.

"I'm telling you," Nick said when she relayed this news to him, "if they just abolished all lawyers, that guy would have been off to prison in under two hours."

The joke drew a laugh from Judy, but her mirth died quickly. They still had most of the day ahead of them, and without fresh info from Jesse their means of determining where Obearon might attack were limited. Even if there had been a rhyme or reason to the past attacks, having a new mastermind to deal with would have thrown all of that out the window. With a load like that, the bomb, the gun, and the threat on her mind, _and_ no leeway to discuss it with her best friend, it was hard to be patient with jokes.

 _This stinks,_ she thought to herself, furrowing her brow. _This really, really stinks._ Nick might be an inform _ant_ rather than an inform _ee,_ but he was also her friend. More than that, he was her partner, badge or no badge, and had been since they dealt with the start of this case over three months before, even if only informally. Yet here she was, keeping secrets... and there wasn't a blessed thing she could do about it.

 _'You could just tell him,'_ argued a voice in her head. _'It's not like he can't keep his mouth shut.'_

She shook her head. _Not with his chances of becoming a cop on the line. If we're both officers, then we can ditch the secrets. Besides, what's he going to do if he doesn't pull this off? Go back to hustling... no, he wouldn't do that. Especially not now that he_ knows _he can find legit work with-_

"Hey, hey!"

Jerked out of her fuming, she only just noticed the red light in time to step on the brakes. "Aaaah!"

Passing drivers stared as the cruiser screeched to a halt. Once she was sure they were no longer moving, Judy looked over at Nick. He was staring at her with fear written all over his russet face. Not just fear over having nearly wrecked, but fear for _her._

"Carrots, are you okay?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just... I'm fine."

"Uh-huh," he replied. "And if I believe that, you'd like to offer me a great deal on the Bucklyn Bridge. Do you need me to drive?"

"I can't let you do that," she answered testily. "You're not a cop."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Clearly, he wasn't too happy about that either. "Well we're working on that, ri-?"

A horn blared behind them, informing them that the light was green again. Judy resumed driving, this time keeping her eyes on the road. Her heart, however, was all over the place.

"Sorry," she uttered. She shouldn't be treating Nick like this. He was her friend, after all, and no more to blame for the situation than she was. Really, if anything he was less culpable. "I'm just..." She paused, then plunged ahead. "Look, if there were things I knew that I wasn't allowed to tell you – important things, I mean – you'd understand that, right?"

He thought about that. "We talking someone's personal life, or is this about me not being a cop?"

It didn't take a rocket scientist to guess from his tone that he knew the answer.

"Yeah, like you not being a cop."

Nick was silent for a moment before he answered. "Well, would I be bugged about it? Yes, yes I would." Smiling ruefully, he added, "But I wouldn't blame you for it." When she said nothing, he took that as an invitation to continue. "Look, I get it. I'm on probation until I prove myself, and the chief hates my guts. I'm used to not being trusted."

"You shouldn't be, though," she argued. "And _I_ trust you. I just don't want to mess up your chances."

"Then that makes it my turn to trust you. Look, if everything was the way it was supposed to be, no one would break the law – and where would you be then?"

Despite herself, she smiled a little. "Oh, probably running my parents' roadside stand back in Bunnyburrow," she admitted.

"Right. So let's get this case wrapped up and leave old Buffalo Butt without a hoof to stand on, right Fluff?"

Judy snorted, trying to hold back a laugh at the nickname. "You _ever_ let that get back to Chief Bogo," she chortled, "and he'll have you polishing license plates."

Nick grinned. "Well, now you and I are keeping information from him. Even?"

She nodded, her high spirits back again. "Very."

* * *

Meanwhile, in a darkened apartment elsewhere in the city, a ringing phone woke up a certain female. Groaning at the interruption of her slumber, she picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hello," said a deep, familiar voice. "Sorry to wake you."

"I'm sure it's important. With you, it always is."

"Yes. I need to switch you over from your current duties. You'll be... monitoring an investigation being conducted by Officer Hopps and her associate."

The female, rising and stretching her long, lithe figure, nodded. "Nick Wilde, you mean?"

"Yes, him in particular. Make sure everything goes as it should. The stakes are high, and we can't afford any slip-ups."

She nodded. "When do I start?"

"Tomorrow morning, first thing. Sorry I couldn't give you more notice."

It was impossible to tell from his tone whether his apology was sincere or not, though the fact that he apologized at all was unusual in itself. She nodded, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear so she could adjust her alarm clock. "Understood, sir. I won't let you down."

His answer was as grim as any guillotine. "I know you won't. Goodbye."

She considered her options as she fiddled with the timer. Going back to sleep right then would make it harder to accomplish the upcoming changes, which would never do. After some thought, she got up and dressed. As long as she had to be awake, she might as well go out for a jog and some shopping. For such an abrupt switch, she would have to pick up sleeping pills.

 _Not to mention espresso,_ she added mentally, rubbing an arm across her eyes. Keeping tabs on Zootopia's newest crime fighters, she'did need all the help she could get.

* * *

 **Well, after that little pause, the case is back on! I was actually going to focus more on the investigation, but I decided this one had a good stopping place – so you'll have to find out what's next another time. Will they be able to solve their dilemma and crack the case? Will Obearon strike before they're ready? Will Ben make it to the end of his bet without going to the happy hotel? Last but not least, who** _ **were**_ **those two on the phone? Well, true to form, only time will reveal the answers - with a vengeance.**

 **As always, thank you to everyone reading this. I just recently discovered that, even stacked against stories that have had years more to gain a following, this is the most popular work I have on this site! (Still behind on reviews, but it should catch up to my Balto fic) Better still, my schedule has more or less settled into its summer pattern, and I now have the means to write more bits and pieces, so the updates should be more frequent.**

 **Just a few quick notes about the world-building for anyone curious. Everything I wrote about chiropractic care is true. I had to guess on the ZPD's medical policies since my summer job doesn't have me regularly in touch with cops like the three-seasons one does. Everything else, though, is accurate or as close as the Zootopia world allows. On the part about Kirk having an elephant for a partner, my thinking was they could solo patients at the farther ends of the size spectrum, and work together on those in the middle. I debated between Saturday and Sunday for the timing of this particular bit, and ultimately went with Saturday because (for those who don't know) Ginnifer Goodwyn is Jewish. Not sure if Judy follows suit or what it would be called in Zootopia (Eweish? Shrewish? Gnuish?), but the Saturday off seemed appropriate.**

 **Also, just for anyone wondering about that little scene at the precinct's front desk, I promise I'm not going to ship Judy with Ben in this story (although someone did mention the idea as a joke). Consider it an expansion on Benjamin's personality – of which there is more to come, btw – and of the camaraderie between him and the active officers like Judy.**

 **Easter Eggs**

 **Lilo and Stitch**

 **Back to the Future**

 **Celebrities**

 **Thanks again for reading, and please keep those reviews coming! (Faves and follows are good too).**


	15. Fifteen: Someone Get the Door

Just a quick FYI: in accordance with the rules of ZNN, I've changed the Beamers' surname to Moonbeamer. Some of you who've read "Love Remembers" (Chapter Five of "What's Love Anyway?", another of my fics) know the reason, or part of it, but that's all I'll tell you for now. In the meantime, read and enjoy!

 **Back into the chamber turning,**

 **All my soul within me burning.**

 **Soon again I heard the tapping, something louder than before.**

" **Surely," said I, "Surely that is**

 **something at my window lattice.**

 **Let me see then what thereat is, and this mystery explore.**

 **Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.**

 **'Tis the wind, and nothing more."**

 _ **The Raven,**_ **by Edgar Allan Poe**

Somewhere on the car ride, Nick's stomach let out a rumble.

"Ah, dang," he groaned, his paws straying to his middle. "I knew I should have had a bigger breakfast."

Judy's amusement turned to mild embarrassment when her own stomach interrupted her mid-chuckle. "I guess we'll be eating lunch a little early," she suggested.

Nick shrugged carelessly. "Pick a place?"

She shook her head. "I can't afford to eat out every day," she pointed out, "and you'd better save your cash."

"Oh, yeah," Nick muttered, remembering with chagrin that he really wasn't sure what kind of deal he might have to make to settle his taxes.

"Tell you what," Judy suggested, taking a detour. "I think I still have some leftovers in my fridge from the last time you dropped by. We can stop there and decide what to do next."

Nick grinned. "Sounds good to me."

He should have hidden his expression. "And _stay out_ of my _stuff,_ " she added, pointing an index finger at him.

He gave her a fake-bored look. "Carrots, you suck the fun out of everything. Are you sure you're not a vampire bunny?"

She opened her mouth and drew back her upper lip, giving a good view of her front teeth and a playful hiss. "Wouldn't you like to know," she teased. As a matter of fact, she had played a darn good vampire one Howloween when she was ten. Her mother had been... less than happy.

* * *

When they got to Judy's apartment, however, the first thing they did was to find a box sitting outside the door.

"Oh, a present from a secret admirer?" Nick teased.

Judy gave him a smile which was half sincere and half dripping with sarcasm. "I can always look Taelia up in the database and send her some info on you," she sing-songed before studying the box, which was sealed with the kind of packing tape with cris-crossing threads running through it. It was tall enough to reach her chin, and wide enough that Nick could have stretched out behind it and been hidden from view.

"That's funny," she muttered, looking over the package. "No postmark or return address, and..." Suddenly the fur on the back of her neck bristled, and her nose began to twitch. This was straight out of her textbooks from the academy. It didn't _smell_ suspicious, but that would be easy enough to cover up.

"Nick," she said in a voice suddenly much closer to a whisper, "back away, nice and slow."

Nick caught onto her tone at once and heeded the warning with but one word of question.

"Bomb?"

"I think so," she whispered. "I'll tell the neighbors to evacuate. You get out of here and call the ZPD – _now."_

Their whispering was more out of dread than any effort to go unheard, which was just as well. Their attention was so fixed on the box that Nick didn't even notice their company until he turned and dashed off... straight into the landlady.

The armadillo didn't even notice. With her beady eyes fairly popping behind her glasses, she stared from Nick and Judy to the package.

"Did you just say 'bomb'!?" she exclaimed, her nasal voice loud and clear in the quiet hallway.

Judy gestured with her paws for quieter speech. "Yes, and if you don't mind, I'd like to-"

The armadillo instantly curled herself into a ball, but the damage was done. Down the hall, a bison cow poked her head out of an apartment door, her shaggy hair dangling down in curls as though she had been caught midway through tidying them up. "Did someone say there's a bomb?!"

"Wait! Please!" Judy yelled, waving her paws and hopping up and down to get her neighbor's attention. "We're not sure what it is, but if you could just calmly leave the buildi-"

"BOMB!" screamed the bison, bolting out of her apartment and towards the nearest staircase. Her deep mooing voice and thundering hoofbeats resounded up and down the hall as she fled for the exit.

The effect was immediate. At the shout, other animals poked their heads out, saw the package, and poured out of the building like it was on fire.

"Wait! Stop!" shouted Judy, but it was no use. Utter panic had consumed Pangolin Arms.

Suddenly she felt Nick grabbing her by the arm. "Never mind going around," he said, yanking her clear of an antelope's hooves. "Let's get out of here!"

* * *

To the ZPD's credit, they responded pretty darn quickly to the prospect of a bomb. It took them only five minutes to get there, and only a bit longer to confirm that everyone in the building was out.

Unfortunately, the press was similarly quick to respond.

"No, I have no comment at this time!" Francine shouted to a cluster of reporters, waving her ears like two banners. Much to her displeasure, she was one of the cops assigned to crowd control – and on the whole, she would very much have preferred dealing with the bomb. "Please stay back folks! We are doing the best we can here and-!"

"Hey!" yelled someone. "Is that Officer Hopps?!"

Amidst her neighbors, Judy's ears dropped and she tried to make herself scarce. Unfortunately, there wasn't much of anywhere to go in the crowd where her uniform wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb, and her size was little use for concealment in a sea of mammals actively looking for her.

"Officer Hopps?" asked someone else. "Where?!"

"Over there! I could swear it was her!" shouted the first one.

As several mammals armed with notepads and microphones swarmed in Judy's direction, Nick spotted an opening. "Come on!" he hissed, grabbing Judy by the arm and hastily pulling her through the space in a giraffe's legs. The towering mammal never noticed, and fortunately neither did a pair of hippos as the much smaller duo crawled on all fours through the considerable space between one's feet and the other's.

"Always knew all that flab was good for something," murmured Nick.

"Hey! I heard that!" yelled one of them. However, before the outraged creature could get a lock on Nick, he and Judy were well away in another part of the crowd.

After navigating the labyrinthine crowd, they finally managed to make their way to the edge of an area cordoned off by the ZPD for interviewing witnesses with some degree of privacy. At the moment, Chief Bogo was questioning the bison cow who had first set off the panic.

"So you were the first one to recognize the presence of a bomb?"

"No, I got it from Mrs. Armadiio," answered the cow, gesturing to where a tiger cop had wearied of trying to coax the landlady out of her shell and was now trying to pry her open, thinking that perhaps she couldn't hear him with her armor plating closed. Instead, she snapped shut after he'd made only an inch of progress, leaving him to stifle some unbecoming language when she trapped two of his fingers in the process.

"Um, actually," Judy called, slipping past the line of officers with one paw raised, "I was the one who first found it. It was left outside my apartment door."

Bogo turned, ready to tell her to wait her turn when he realized who was speaking. "Hopps?" he asked, raising his browse for an instant in surprise before they scrunched back down in displeasure.

Judy stopped and put her arms to her sides. "Yes, Chief."

Chief Bogo turned to the cow. "That will be all for now," he told her. "We'll get a full statement when we need it."

As the bison left, Bogo turned forebodingly to Judy. "So," he asked, "what happened here?"

"Well, I went to return to my apartment – _after the adjustment_ ," she added as an afterthought, "and I found a suspicious package outside my apartment door."

"I see." Bogo had one eyebrow raised. That was never a good sign. "So from there, you decided to throw the entire apartment building into a panic, is that it?"

"Uh, I hate to argue, but no, that wasn't me. I was going to go around and advise everyone to leave in an orderly fashion – with a gas leak or something like that as a cover story – and I quietly told N- uh, told _one person_ to call the ZPD about a _possible_ bomb."

Alas, for all his other faults Chief Bogo was not gullible. "I suppose this one person was the fox."

Judy wanted to smack herself in the face, but resisted the urge. "That's not the point, Chief. What's important is that Mrs. Armadiio heard what I said, and she repeated it loudly enough that the bison you were just talking to heard it, and _she_ started the panic."

Bogo regarded her unpleasantly. "I see," he said slowly.

"Chief," Judy went on, knowing how this looked, "I know this looks bad, but Nick had nothing to do with this mess. If you're going to-"

"Hopps," Bogo interrupted, "save it. Right now we have bigger problems to worry about."

As if on cue, his radio crackled to life. "Bomb Squad to Relay," said Wolford's distorted voice. "Do you copy? Over."

Bogo answered. "Relay here. I copy. Over."

"Yeah, we checked out the package. Over."

"What's the situation? Over."

"The package is full of papers," Wolford replied.

Judy felt ill.

"It's all Greek to me, but it looks like records; sales and production, or..."

This time, Judy did not resist the urge to facepaw. _I am going to_ kill _that skunk!_ she thought furiously.

Bogo had obviously figured out the same thing she had. "Working from home, Officer Hopps?" he asked sardonically.

Judy's face was burning. "For the record, she didn't get my address from me," she asserted in her defense.

"Noted."

Chief Bogo's radio crackled. "Chief?"

"Yes, Bomb Squad. Leave the package up there and pack everything else up. Relay to all units: false alarm. There is no bomb. Over and out."

He returned his radio to his belt, letting out a weary sigh as he did. Then he turned his eyes on Judy. "Hopps..."

Judy gulped. "I take it you want the package up there for me to go through?"

The buffalo nodded. "Make this worth the trouble. I don't care how, but make this amount to something."

She gave a weary salute, then headed off into the crowd to find Nick.

Bogo gazed after her. "So much for avoiding a panic," he muttered.

* * *

"Carrots! Over here!"

Judy flicked her ears towards the sound, then scanned the crowd. It only took a moment to spot Nick's waving paw, and a quick bit of ducking and weaving brought the rest of him into view.

The fox was the very picture of one impatient for news, with his arms angled out to the sides and his ears back with uncertainty. "So, what happened?"

In answer, she grabbed his paw and began towing him toward the nearest door leading into the building. "I'll explain... as soon as there's nobody in earshot."

Nick jogged to keep up with the bunny's rapid, aggressive strides. "Sensitive information?"

"No, just a chance of language I'm not supposed to use in public."

Once they were inside, going up a little-used back staircase, Judy filled her friend in on what had happened. Somehow, she managed to explain it without saying anything regrettable… barely.

"Ouch," he sympathized as they reached her floor. "So, what do we do now?"

She unlocked the door and began pushing the box into her apartment, past Officer Wolford – who lent them a paw and tried without success to reassure the irate rabbit that false alarms were nothing to sweat. She thanked him mechanically, then shut the door so quickly that she almost got Nick's tail caught in the jamb.

"Whoa, whoa," he protested, yanking the extremity out of harm's way and holding it close a few seconds longer than necessary. "You got something against my tail?"

"No!" she snapped. Then she caught herself. "I mean... no." She took a few deep breaths. "Sorry, Nick. I'm just... rrgh."

She was so tense she flinched for a moment when his paw descended on her shoulder. Then, reluctantly, she relaxed and looked up.

"Look, Carrots," he advised, "it doesn't take a brain like either of ours to know she did this to mess with you."

Judy looked away, not in much of a mood to be reassured. "Well, it worked," she replied. Then she pulled away, bothered not only about the false alarm, but about the reason why it was such a big concern. "Come on, let's go through these files and find something we can stick to that skunk."

Nick could feel the hostility radiating off of her as she opened the flaps which Wolford had closed out of courtesy, pulled out a folder. For a long moment he could only stare as she went to her bed, jumped up, and began leafing through.

 _Something tells me that skunk bugged the wrong bunny,_ he thought to himself.

* * *

Although Judy had eluded any tries for an interview, there was no hiding the fact that she lived at the place which had received such a scare. That was due in part to the big mouths of her next-door neighbors, and in part to fleeting glimpses people had managed to catch of her as she was running up to talk with Chief Bogo. Naturally, where the ZPD refused to give details, the media was more than happy to make up their own.

So it was that on that same evening, news outlets of every medium were blasting the story, leading three mammals around the city to read the same headline: **Officer Judy Hopps Hit with Bomb Threat.**

In the Moonbeamers' basement, Taelia got a shock when Vicky brought it up and asked if she thought Nick might be involved. Even after learning that no one had been hurt and the situation had been resolved, she was unsettled through the whole practice session and vowed she would not sleep that night until she had talked with Nick on the phone. Nicole, meanwhile, picked up on Taelia's unease and vowed she would not let the vixen get home that night without 'a good girl talk.'

Over in TudraTown, Vanya laughed to herself – a sound which usually meant trouble of some sort or other. She had a feeling that whatever the facts of the incident might be, Nick was mixed up in it somehow. As problematic as such a turnaround might be on the surface, a vixen like her could use such situations to her advantage. After all, if he ran into too many such problems, he might reconsider his career options. If not... well, she knew him well enough to make things difficult if he ever came after her. In the meantime, she had business to sort out. Mr. Big had called, telling her and the other Angels to be ready for an infiltration run on a place in Meadowlands.

In the Poisson mansion, the author of the whole stunt shook her head. She had expected some sort of reaction to the unmarked personal delivery – carried by the paws of a very capable employee – but she had expected a trained police officer to keep a better lid on it than that. Of course, Officer Hopps would be sure to come after her more aggressively in the near future, but for the moment the skunk could at least have a chuckle over the snafu while she waited for the next move in their little battle of wits.

 **So the bomb was a bust, but what's the outcome? How is a snafu like this going to impact the ZPD's image and mission? What's Judy going to do to settle accounts with Miss Poisson? For that matter, where the heck is Obearon, and when is he** _ **really**_ **going to strike?**

 **Hope I didn't keep everyone waiting too long. This was a chapter I'd been waiting to do for some time, and although I wasn't able to include many Easter Eggs I did put a lot of thought into the details. I think you'll all be surprised as the case continues to unfold, and everyone's part in it is gradually revealed.**

 **On a side note, I thought about having Olivia put in an old-fashioned alarm clock so the package would audibly tick, but decided that would make it too easy to slap charges (no pun intended) on her. No easy-to-catch villains in this story; I'll promise you that.**

 **The "Sword of Hamocles" is a reference to a Greek fable called "The Sword of Damocles," which is a bit lengthy to explain here but well worth looking up.**

 **Thanks again for all the interest. I can't help noticing that I'm getting a lot more Follows (100+ at this point) than Favorites. It's kind of amusing to think that this story may be a guilty pleasure for so many people. Never the less, I still welcome responses in any form. My deepest thanks to everyone for tracking this little creation of mine.**

 **Easter Eggs**

 **Looney Tunes**


	16. Sixteen: Mystery within a Mystery

Back for another chapter. This time my editors were Hawktooth (who really wasn't concerned with remaining anonymous) and JrRangerScout. Does anyone know what happened to winerp? I'm not sure if he lives in a hurricane area, but I hope not.

And now, on with the show!

" **Better that I devote myself to study the other great mystery of the universe: women."**

 **Doc Brown,** _ **Back to the Future II**_

It has been said that people are unsolvable riddles by themselves, and yet groups of them can be predicted with mathematical assurance. Such was certainly the case in Zootopia on the evening following the bomb scare. Judy had not planned to spend hours on end making herself cross-eyed over countless forms. Neither had she planned to drag Nick into the same drudgery, but there they were. Yet for the rest of the city, life went on more or less as normal save for idle gossip. Even the rabbit's neighbors, who had fled in a panic, were little disrupted save for missed shows, interrupted phone calls, and one or two ruined dinners. At the end of the day, they probably did more to put themselves out coming by her apartment to joke or complain about her 'bringing her work home with her' than the scare itself had done. Sadly, sense and reason often matter little to someone who feels they have a grievance, and there seems to be an especially strong link between the absurdity of the complaint and the strength with which it is made.

Elsewhere in the city it was much the same. For example, as a pair of reddish-furred females walked home together so far as their routes overlapped, few passers-by would have guessed or cared about their worries. Even those who recognized them from past strolls along that particular route would not have been very likely to notice a change in their demeanor. The lights from store signs they passed by bathed them in shifting colors as they discussed the bomb scare, nearly as calmly as any other pair might compare and discuss plans for a day off from work.

Although Taelia had been rattled at first, by the time in question she was not particularly unsettled by the turn of events. The familiarity of band practice had given her mind time to settle on the fact that her initial thought process of, 'Bomb. Officer Hopps. Nick!' had been mistaken; silly, even. She had almost brushed aside the idea of calling him about it at all, but she hardly saw a simple mistake as a reason _not_ to call him.

Her companion was not _so_ impassive. Nicole, who worked at the hospital as a Physician's Assistant, had met her share of police officers. Sometimes she found them asking for information about someone's injuries. On mercifully rare occasions, they turned up as patients themselves. She could tell by the vixen's demeanor that the prospect of Nick being in real danger at later dates had not yet sunk in. Her kinder side was glad for this. The practical side of her mind, though, could not shake off the risks of such naivete. She knew it might make it more painful if the worst came calling down the road.

Taelia, for her own part, had some idea that her friend was concerned about her. She couldn't have been friends with Nicole Tailbott for nearly a decade without knowing that much, even without a female's intuitive powers. Part of her appreciated it. She always appreciated knowing someone had her back, but she wasn't exactly a kit. She liked her independence, and there were times – on occasion – when Nicole could get just a tad nosey.

All the same, Taelia had never had an interest in mind reading and wouldn't have known how to start anyway. So to penetrate the uncertainty about her friend's real thoughts, she spoke up during a lull in their other dialogue.

"So," she asked, stepping from the green glow of one neon sign into the yellow of another, "what did you _really_ want to talk about?"

Nicole shrugged, a blue light seeming to emphasize her uncertainty. "Well, it's about the news article. You know that if Nick makes it into the ZPD, he's probably going to run into other stuff like this. It's probably not _always_ going to be a false alarm."

Taelia stopped in the glow of a red sign, and Nicole instinctively stopped alongside her. The vixen looked up, not sure how to take this last remark. "So...?"

"I'm just saying that you should probably be careful."

"Careful as in safety?" asked Taelia, propping her fists on her hips. "Or is the one who spends her free time sitting with terminal patients at the hospital going to warn me about risky attachments?"

Nicole sighed, getting the distinct feeling that she had put her friend on the defensive. "I'm not saying it's a bad idea," she replied, raising her paws. "Believe me, I'm glad you found a guy like Nick. Heck, if I weren't happy with Willy I'd envy you for hooking a catch like him."

Taelia was a little miffed at this suggestion, and at the fact that her friend seemed to be arguing in two different directions with no particular destination in mind. "He's a bit on the small side for you," she pointed out. "If you were in full makeup, people would mistake him for your kid."

"Hmm, yeah," Nicole admitted, reflecting briefly the size differential between herself and Nick. She had nothing against shorter males or shorter species in general, but it would be kind of awkward to step on one's date. "But that's not the point."

"Then what is?" asked Taelia, resuming the walk.

Nicole took her cue and followed doggedly. "Well, I'm just trying to make sure you're ready to go about this the right way. I mean, I know you've had it rough in the dating department. Something tells me that you're, well... looking for a guy who you can really respect and who will balance you out; emotion-wise, I mean."

Taelia pondered that for a moment. She had, of course, thought about what she wanted in a relationship. The trouble was that, like far too many people she had never given the matter lengthy and serious consideration. For that matter, she had given even less to _why_ she wanted what she wanted. Now that the matter _did_ come up, Nicole's remarks seemed dead-on; uncomfortably so.

"Okay, so let's say I _am_ looking for balance and a guy I can respect. What's wrong with that?"

Nicole waved a paw, pads up. "Nothing, unless it's _all_ you're aiming for. I mean, take me and Willy. He's a big encouragement, especially when... well, when my work gets hard." Willy – or William to most other mammals – was a coyote whom Nicole had been dating for some time. Taelia had met him on a few occasions, and she thought the two of them made a good couple. Nicole's social habits at the hospital had put them in touch, although the circumstances had – of course – delayed any actual romance.

Unfortunately, knowing the basis of Nicole's love life did little to help Taelia make sense of hers. "So what are you getting at?"

As the females moved into an area with less neon and more conventional lighting, Nicole shrugged again. "Mostly that it has to go both ways. Willy needs support too; that's how he and I got together in the first place."

Taelia didn't know the full details on that part. A while back Nicole had told her – by accident – that she'd met Willy through work. It was safe to guess that someone close to the coyote had died, so Taelia – wisely – had not asked for more details. To that day, she was pretty sure the red wolf never discussed it with anyone else.

Nicole continued. "He's managed to get through what happened back then, but even the everyday stuff can be trying. He and I both know that his job's not as emotionally or mentally taxing as working in a hospital, but he still has days when he needs me to prop him up." (Actually, Willy was a high school teacher, so chances were he needed a _lot_ of support and encouragement). "I think you need to think about that with Nick too, especially because his job's going to be really tough. There's no way police work is easy for anyone, but as a fox he's really going to be fighting uphill on this."

The speech certainly gave the vixen pause. She had never set out to sponge off someone else for confidence, and the idea that she would do so was, honestly, a little insulting. That was to say, it _would_ have been insulting from most mammals, but she knew Nicole too well for that. If Nicole said she approved of something and then pointed out problems, it could only be because, as she had said, she wanted to see it work. In Taelia's own very confident estimation, the red wolf's honest nature and genuine heart simply didn't allow for anything else.

It seemed as though Nicole sensed her thoughts. "Listen, I'm not saying you're being selfish. We all need someone to hold us up now and then. It's natural, and it's good, but it can be easy to get drawn into thinking too much about what you want if you're not careful – and believe it or not, I've done that. If you want a relationship to work, no matter who it's with, you need to look at both sides of it and focus on what you should bring to it."

"Well, I always try to be encouraging," said the vixen. "At least, I never try to tear a guy down."

"Oh, I know. Look, I'm not saying this is something you're not doing. I'm just saying it would be good to be more _intentional_ about it. _Look_ for ways to build him up. Trust me, that'll work wonders on the right kind of guy – and girl to girl, I think Nick's the right kind of guy."

Taking a deep breath, Taelia nodded assent. "Okay," she admitted, "so I guess when I call him I should try to back him up?"

Nicole's tone in answering was a few shades brighter than before. "That would be a good start."

"Okay. And... thanks."

The she-wolf smiled warmly. "Glad to help."

At that point, Taelia decided it was time to change the subject – and besides, she'd been meaning to pick her friend's brain on another subject. "By the way, I've been meaning to get your opinion on something – medically speaking. I came across an article about some research; someone found a way to use sound to stimulate…"

The conversation drifted on, leaving Nicole satisfied that her work was done.

After the ladies parted ways, Taelia replayed Nicole's advice over and over again in her mind until she was settled in back at her own apartment. It was well that her friend had advised her to think of what she herself could bring to the table, for at heart she wanted to make others happy. Besides, she was a bit of a worry-wart down deep, and having something to do made it a lot easier to stay off that track. This was not at all an accidental result of the little sermon she'd just heard. Nicole was tenderhearted, but shrewd; more than shrewd enough to know the value of a well-placed nudge.

 _Okay,_ she briefly contemplated. _Back him up. Let him know I'm rooting for him. Got it._

* * *

Over in his own apartment, Nick was exhausted. He and Judy had gone over those records with little mercy for the papers or themselves, and his brain was pretty well tapped out. From the time they entered that apartment, he and Hopps had been up to their necks in paperwork. It was exhaustively thorough and meticulous; enough to make him more than take back any and every quip he'd ever made about the mental faculties of farmers. He dimly remembered wondering if it was done so intricately with the specific intention of discouraging thorough examination – or maybe it was Judy who had said that. He also seemed to recall something being said about the strong chance that Poisson, being both a genius of her chosen sciences and a control freak, was simply all about details. In the long and short of it, he was now cross-eyed and felt like he had been trying to decipher instructions for building a flying saucer; instructions encrypted in Llamajo Code and transcribed with the Hamskrit alphabet.

Absently he smacked his lips, and the taste of his supper came back to him. After he had polished off his own leftovers from their earlier takeout, he had accepted a helping of Carrots for One so as to leave more time for going over the forms. That had yielded pretty much the only definite thing he learned that day: despite being in his thirties, he still hated vegetables.

Now, slumping on a couch in his dog cave, he was trying to heal his brain – or at least anesthetize it – with some music from the Beagles. At least, he was pretty sure it was the Beagles. Suddenly he heard a jingle coming in that sounded distinctly more recent.

 _Sounds like 'Vixen,'_ he thought dimly, before realizing it was his cell phone. He toyed with the idea of letting it go to voicemail. After about six straight hours of helping Judy in an intellectual duel with Poisson, he figured he'd had enough of females for the day no matter how much he liked them.

On the other paw, he had often found time with a female – disconnected from his day job, of course – to be a great anesthetic for a troubled mind. Well, okay, troubled _conscience_ in times past, but if one overlooked that _one_ vixen it had always been effective enough to get him through to the next day.

 _Beep._

"Hello?"

Taelia opened her mouth, only to realize that she hadn't really thought about how to begin. "Hey," she greeted, feeling very self-conscious. "Heard things got pretty interesting today."

"Interesting?"

"Well, the news is full of Officer Hopps getting a bomb threat." She hesitated. "Um, were you involved in that?"

For a moment, Nick just sat there in silence. "Bomb threat?" Hours of digging through paperwork in vain had proven so mind-numbing that he'd almost forgotten the initial chaos caused by its arrival. "Oh, that. Well, no one actually made any threats. It was just an unmarked package left at her door. More of a joke than a threat."

Taelia was stunned. "A joke?" she repeated.

"Yeah, pretty much," he affirmed, not catching the sudden edge in her voice.

She was, understandably, incensed in no small degree. Her collected, prepared demeanor began to erode like a sand castle meeting the first waves of high tide. "What kind of idiot would _do_ that?!" she demanded.

He shrugged. "One with a lot more money than you or I will ever have," he remarked glibly.

That remark pulled her up short. "Wait, what?"

Nick's brain caught up with his mouth. "Aw, nuts. No, uh, forget I said that. I'm not supposed to talk about those kinds of details."

"Why, because whoever did it is rich? I hope they're in lockup right now!"

The conversation was rapidly getting out of paw. "No, Taelia, wait. It's not that simple." He tried to think of how best to explain it, and found himself at a loss. As much of a mess as had already been made of things, he didn't want to risk making more trouble by spreading word about the situation. Judy was already in enough of a pinch, and if the day's events hadn't caused her enough trouble to divulge any information to him, then secrecy must be vital. As peeved as he was that Judy wouldn't open up, he couldn't betray her confidence.

His silence, evidently, unsettled the vixen. "Nick?"

He sighed. "Listen," he said, "I... can't really tell you everything right now. Maybe later, but right now it's all part of the investigation."

Over at her end of the line, Taelia bit her lip. A stunt like that made her stomach churn, and all the more since she had begun to appreciate what Officer Hopps did. Sure, her only actual encounter with the cop had been a narrow escape from a traffic ticket, but that _was_ her job. Besides, Nick was part of that too – and Nicole's remarks on the doe's behalf a few days before had not failed to leave an impression either. Really, she had Judy to thank at least as much as Nick for the fact that she could walk the streets without being feared and shunned. Well, feared and shunned more than usual, anyway.

 _'So I guess when I call him I should try to back him up?'_ her words from the talk with Nicole echoed back to her. She took a deep breath. _Forget the jerks. Look for a way to build him up._

"Okay," she conceded both to him and to the pricking of her own conscience. "If you say so." Then, casting about for a topic less likely to be locked up tight, she ventured, "Is there any rule against telling me about yourself?"

Nick hesitated, for in seeking a topic he might discuss freely she had inadvertently struck on the very subject into which he was wariest of delving. Fortunately, he knew pretty well how to guide such conversations away from his shadier side. "You mean like hobbies, favorite movies, what?" he prompted under a guise of venturing.

"Mmm… hobbies," Taelia answered, brightening.

"Well, let me think." Nick pondered for a moment, as if hesitating lest he tell too much. He had often found that such a pause piqued listeners' interest, much the same as preceding something with, 'I really shouldn't tell you this.' "Sometimes I like to design roller coaster tracks."

Taelia sat up a little straighter. "Really?"

"Yeah, just for the heck of it. When I was a kid, I used to use Linker Toys and whatever else I could get my paws on to make little model tracks."

This drew a laugh from the vixen. "I'll bet you were cute," she said. "What kind of rides did you make?"

"Oh, basic ones at first. Ferrits Wheels, things like that. Then I tried to figure out how to make a roller coaster jump the track, go airborne, and land on another track."

Taelia snorted humorously. "What, you mean like a toy car track?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Hmm. I'm guessing Wild Times didn't snap up the blueprints to that one. Do you still have the models?"

"Uh, no." This was getting uncomfortably close to his family history. "No, I stopped building model tracks a long time ago. I still doodle now and then, but it's nothing to write home about." He decided to try changing the subject. "What about you?"

"Me?" She shrugged. "Well, let's see. Cooking, jogging, and sometimes I sing."

"Really. Anything with the band?"

She shook her head. "No, nothing like that. I actually started out wanting to be a singer. That was my first big dream when I was a kit, but when I joined a garage band in school, none of the others could get the sound system to work. So, poof, I discovered my gift."

"Hm. Well, I guess it worked out. You ever think about doing something onstage?"

She blushed. "Well, not so much, no. Maybe one of these days, but I'm happy enough where I am." This brought another thought to her mind. "Speaking of finding niches, how's it going with getting into the department? You can talk about that, right?"

He shrugged, supposing that this at least was a ZPD-related matter he could discuss. "Not bad," he replied. "Wouldn't you know, I've even got a buddy who works there in the computer department."

This piqued Taelia's interest. "Really? Well, that's great. What about the higher-ups?"

Nick chuckled. "Eh, let's just say I'm looking forward to proving them wrong."

Hearing this, she winced. "That bad, huh?"

He shrugged. "Oh, you know. Fox this, fox that, yadda yadda."

Taelia huffed, sticking her tongue out a little and wondering if all of society was so full of distrust toward their species. "Well, they've got a surprise waiting for them, then."

The confidence with which she said it surprised Nick. He had been thinking the same thing himself, and it was clear that Judy hadn't lost faith in him either, but for all that he was still taken aback. _If I'd known I could get this many people cheering me on,_ he thought, _I might have tried this cop thing a long time ago._ When he spoke, however, it was his hustler side that did the talking. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said, "but I think it's going to take more than good looks to pull this off "

Taelia blinked at his audacity, then smiled. "Well," she answered, grabbing the first fitting answer to come to mind, "I happen to think you've _got_ more than good looks."

"Maybe I do," he answered calmly, "And maybe I'm fishing for compliments."

For just a moment, Taelia was irked at the reynard's vanity and cheek. She was quickly mollified, however. A vixen had to know how to take a joke. "Sneak," she groused in a somewhat flirtatious tone.

Nick yawned, as much for show as out of fatigue. "Well, I'd better turn in," he said, smacking his lips. "It's been a long day, and I've got a lot to do tomorrow."

She smiled. "Sleep well," she advised. "By the way, when you see Officer Hopps tomorrow, could you tell her I'm rooting for her too, and that we all are?"

He nodded despite it being a phone call. "Sure," he agreed. With the kind of aggravation Judy was facing, she could probably use all the encouragement she could get. Another yawn – this one strictly involuntary – escaped his mouth. "Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Nick ended the call, pondering the conversation as he made ready for bed. The case, it was true, was looking pretty rocky. He seriously doubted that they'd find anything incriminating in the records sent to them by Poisson. Even if they didn't, though, it was a cinch that they'd get some other break. He had two officers – three, counting Ben – in his corner, his own wits and network of contacts, and now – novelty of novelties – a pawful of ordinary citizens actually rooting for him. It was almost like having a fan club. Heck, with the way things were going he might try running for mayor if the ZPD didn't pan out.

The thing that continued to bug him, besides how to get the break they needed in their case, was that Taelia seemed too attached to settle for just a few casual dates. If he was reading her at all correctly (as he usually did with the ladies), she wouldn't take it well if the day came that he said he wanted to see other vixens. Granted, he'd had little trouble letting down past girlfriends, but she... well, he couldn't help thinking that she deserved more consideration than that. She was so _genuine;_ so _supportive._ To his surprise, he realized that the talk with her had been just the tonic he'd needed after the day he'd had. It had been more than just a distraction. She had really wanted to help, and in a way she _had_ helped.

Well, he supposed he could handle a few more dates with her than he'd usually stuck around for. Goodness knew, with what he was getting into, rough days would be a given. It wasn't like she was looking for matrimony or anything like that – and if that did come up, he could just say he wasn't ready. It would even be true.

 _Stop over-thinking it, Nick,_ he told himself with a rueful smile. _Just give yourself a break once in a while._

That last thought jogged another in his mind about how tense Judy had been when they parted ways. If there was anyone who needed a break, it was her.

 _Hmm..._ he thought as something took shape in his mind. _I just might be able to help with that._

 **Thanks again for reading. :) I know a lot of readers find these deviations from the case a little trying, so I think it's only fair to drop a** _ **little**_ **information now. Part of the reason I wanted to write this story, and those to follow it, was to take a look at the civilian side of police work; its effects on everyday people and vice-versa. In this case, the main point would be that law enforcement – and for that matter every other branch of public service – is not a job done on an island. As the son of an ambulance volunteer (who is in some respects the inspiration for Nicole), I know firsthand that behind everyone who keeps the world together is a network of people holding them together.**

 **Purely on a side note, I guess this is as good a time as any to advance a notion about the fact that, though domestic dogs don't exist in Zootopia, there is apparently a band called the Beagles (a la Beatles), as seen in Judy's music collection. My guess is that they have stories about dogs, but they are regarded – at least among canines – much the same way as we in this world might regard stories of fairy folk. I draw for this, in part, on the fact that genes in human beings similar to those linked with domestication in animals have been linked to an uncommonly kindly demeanor and elvish characteristics. This has nothing to do with the story, but I love to delve into myths and legends. I am nerd. Hear me jabber.**

 **To the Guest reviewer on the last chapter: Thank you. I thought it seemed like a good way to bring Poisson back into the action. For all the deviations, she is still Judy's main suspect, and I figured I should bring that back around in a fashion that suited her attitude. As to her being a practical joker, she's the kind of character who – as hinted at the end of that chapter – likes it best when she has the upper paw and everyone knows it. Most pranks are better natured than this one was, but I think there is always something of a battle of wits at work in that kind of thing (I speak from some experience). Anything to cloud her opponent's judgment, then, would be to her advantage as she sees it. Besides, even a villain has to have some fun now and then, right?**

 **Easter Eggs**

 **Another Looney Tunes reference**

 **Captain America: The First Avenger**

 **And for anyone wondering, Llamajo Code = Navajo Code (a method of encryption used by the US military), and Hamskrit = Sanskrit, an ancient language. The mention of Ferrits Wheels is a playful blending of Ferris and Ferret (duh).**

 **Keep those faves, follows, and reviews coming! Chapter 15 set two personal records for me, I think: most reviews on a new fanfic chapter, and most thorough review received (courtesy of JrRangerScout).**


	17. Seventeen: Friends and Fire

This chapter proofread by Hawktooth and JrRangerScout (anyone know where winerp is? I hope he's okay).

 **Mr. Dimwitty: "(Let's say) Tomorrow throws the ball and the guy up bunts the ball. Now when he bunts the ball, me being a good catcher, I wanna throw the guy out on first, so I pick up the ball and throw it to Who?"**

 **Mr. Broadhurst: "Now that's the first thing you've said right."**

 **Mr. Dimwitty: "I don't even know what I'm talkin' about!"**

 _ **Who's On First,**_ **by Abbott and Costello**

After a total of at least fourteen hours of poring over the information Poisson had sent, Judy was getting frustrated. Even with Nick's help, she couldn't find anything useful. Everything was accounted for: flowers planted, flowers harvested, total weight of the blossoms, concentrate acquired, concentrate purity... she was usually good at math, but her head was spinning. Nick was faring little better. For all his years disguising scams as legitimate business, even he had to admit that if there was something buried in the paperwork, it was more than he could dig up.

"Now let's see," Judy reflected, sorting through piles. "This one's from September... wait, I looked at that. Which of these piles have I...?" she trailed off, realizing that _every_ pile was one which she had looked at, repeatedly and with extreme prejudice. "Rrrrgh!" The bunny groaned and smacked her forehead on the desk. "We've been over all this stuff _five times!_ " she erupted. "There's _got_ to be something we're missing!"

Although Nick had been doing a lot more than just watching her give herself ulcers, he was pretty sure that alone would have left him exhausted. Nor had he been slouching in his efforts to help, and to top it all off he had been trying – in vain, of course – to ease Judy's mind. His endeavors on this last front included telling her about the upcoming concert, passing along Taelia's vote of encouragement, a couple of suggestions that some fresh air might clear her mind, three subtle pryings for some reason why she had been so tense _after_ they actually started making headway with Jesse's capture, and a very calm remark that he thought her tail might be on fire. These had yielded, respectively, two rounds of "that's nice," a "not now" and an, "I said not now," three variations of, "just trust me," and another "that's nice." He was tempted to make some remark about her missing the point of a day off, but suspected that this would be ill-advised... and possibly result in a bruise shaped like a rabbit's fist.

There _was_ another option he'd been holding in reserve, but with all his other methods falling short, he decided he might as well pull it out. "You know, Fluff, it's been my experience that when you're stuck with something you _don't_ know how to handle, it helps if you step back and tackle some problem you _do_ know how to handle."

She gazed at him wearily. "Like what?" she asked.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. "Well, a friend of mine asked me to give you his phone number."

Judy's nose twitched, and one of her eyebrows went up. "Okay, how is _that_ a problem?"

There was no need to mask a smirk. If anything, Nick had to work not to laugh. "Well, don't tell me you've never told a guy you weren't interested. A cute doe like you must have had to do that at _least_ a couple of times in high school, right?"

The impact on Judy's frayed nerves was so electric, she didn't even take the time to reprimand him about the 'c' word. "What? You want to pull me away from a case because some guy...?" She couldn't even finish, but could only stare at his calm expression. "Nick, what's wrong with you?"

He shrugged. "Hey, it was just a thought. Too bad, though. He's a really nice guy, too. Be a shame to make him wait for a simple 'no thanks'."

Judy wavered, and then sighed in resignation. Nick had no idea what she was up against, but maybe it _would_ help to take her mind off the case just for the space of one phone call. With slow reluctance, she nodded to the fox and held out a paw in a 'give it here' type of gesture.

"Atta girl. Here's the phone number," he told her, writing it down and putting it into her paw. "I need to, uh, take a walk anyway, so you'll have privacy."

She watched him go, then gazed at the scrap of paper. It wasn't _his_ number, so at least he wasn't setting her up for some prank.

 _'He's a really nice guy,'_ Nick's voice echoed in her mind. _'Be a shame to make him wait for a simple 'no thanks'.'_

She sighed, picked up her phone, and punched in the number.

* * *

Over in an outlying bit of Sahara Square, a gray wolf likewise on his day off sat at a computer clicking his mouse and tapping keys madly as a character on the screen traded sword strokes with a zombie.

"Let's see how you like this," he remarked to the undead freak, readying an attack. Before he could use it, however, his phone rang.

"Agh," he muttered, letting off a half-charged attack and hitting the pause key. He picked up the phone. "Hello?"

A female voice emerged. "Hey, um... this is Judy. Judy Hopps, I mean. Nick said you asked him to give me your number?"

 _Judy, Judy..._ "Oh, Judy!" he exclaimed, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. He had not, by any means, forgotten his friend's teasing remark after the sting. "So Nick gave you my number. Good." _Man, this is awkward,_ he thought.

Over on her end, Judy felt pretty awkward herself. While Nick had guessed right about her telling guys she wasn't interested before, it was usually a buck about whom she had at least a _little_ information. This was more like a blind date for a breakup – and to make matters worse, his voice at least _did_ sound nice. That wasn't much to go by, of course, but it was all she had at the moment – which, of course, was half the problem. _Just like Nick to bail when I made the actual call,_ she thought. "Uh, listen, Nick didn't tell me a whole lot about you; just that you're a nice guy..."

Kevin smacked a paw over his face. _I... am going... to_ kill _that fox!_ he thought. It didn't help that to his all-but-paranoid ears, Judy sounded interested but nervous – which, of course, was more or less what he'd been worried about after what Nick had said the other night. All the same, he forced a grin. "Uh, well, there's not a whole lot to tell, I guess. Just your average wolf who works with computers, I guess."

 _A wolf?_ thought Judy. _This is his idea of how to unwind? Telling me to call a strange wolf just to tell him I'm not interested?_ Much as she didn't have against wolves in general, she did have a general notion of what she liked when she went on a date and it usually didn't involve talking to the guy's kneecaps. With Oscar-worthy effort, however, she managed – barely – to keep annoyance from creeping into her voice. "Oh, okay. Well, listen, I'm really flattered, but I'm kind of busy lately – you know, with a big case – and I really don't have the time to see anyone right now."

He sounded pretty confused, for the very excellent reason that he _was_ confused. "You don't?"

When he spoke, he had let out a breath in confusion and some relief. She mistook that for dismay. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry to break it to you, but being a cop is tough, and I really don't have the time-"

"Wait, wait, hold on a minute," Kevin cut her off.

"There's really not much else to say," she argued.

"No, no," he persisted. "That's not what I mean. Judy, I wasn't going to ask you out."

She blinked. "You weren't?"

"No!" Realizing that his vehemence could come across as an insult, he hastily amended, "I mean, I'm sure you're nice, but I asked Nick to give you my number because I work for the ZPD's tech division. I just wanted us to be able to keep in touch in case you needed fast access to my department, that's all."

Now Judy was confused. "Then why did you seem so bugged about me not wanting to see you?"

"Me? _I_ was bugged because I thought _you_ were calling to ask _me_ out. Nick said the other night that..."

Like a bolt of forked lightning, the realization hit them both at the exact same instant.

"NICK!"

* * *

Out on the fire escape, Nick knew that the time had come to make himself scarce. Closing out the recording app on his phone, he pocketed the device and jumped onto the railing, sliding down like an expert skiier.

He should have been a little quieter. Closing the call and pocketing her own phone out of habit, Judy was after him in a flash "Nick!" she shouted, scrambling out the window, "Get your brush-tailed butt up here right now!"

A voice from next door sounded through the aperture behind her. "Oh, just make out already!"

Much as she wanted to catch the fleeing fox, she stuck her head back in for one brief announcement. "You're next!" she yelled, and raced after Nick.

It was a pretty tight race. Nick had the lead, and in his time as a con he'd had to flee down fire escapes a fair number of times. Judy, on the other hand, had a sharp edge in natural agility as well as her ZPD training. To her, the whole descent was like one big jungle gym. The bottom level clinched the race. Slipping out the rail of the next level up, she dropped, caught a paw on the floor as she shot past, and whipped around to a perfect landing smack on top of Nick.

"Ow," he groaned weakly when he could breathe again.

"Phone, please," she said with a triumphant smile.

Before he could hand over the device, however, her own phone rang. With an annoyed groan, she pulled it out and answered the call. "Can I call you back in a second, Kevin?" she asked. "I'm a little busy."

The voice on the other end stopped her cold. "No, and my name's not Kevin."

"Chief!"

"Yes, it's me. I want you at the old community center on the double – and bring that fox"

She wondered what could be behind the sudden summons... and then it hit her. There was only one reason Bogo would call her like this. "We'll be right over," she promised, and hung up.

Nick was still on his stomach underneath her, and now he was confused as well as stunned – not to mention in pain. That tended to happen when mammals landed on him like that. "Two questions," he said weakly. ""What was that about, and does it mean you'll get off me now?"

She jumped off and pulled him upright before making a beeline for the ladder. "I'll explain on the way!" she promised. Order of silence or not, she had kept her mouth shut long enough – and now it was too late.

* * *

Some two hours before, the Zootopia Community Center had been a bustle of activity as mammals prepared for the concert. With the grand event just ten days away, the main mover and shaker behind it – a maneless lion by the name of Regis Killrahb – wanted to put everything through a test fit to make sure nothing was amiss. With his knack for event arrangements being second only to that of Olivia Poisson herself, he found plenty worth amending.

"Move those tables to the right, please. We've sold more tickets to elephants than we expected, so we'll need better access. You there, how high can we make those temporary balconies? We want the smaller guests to be able to see what's going on. Now, where is-?"

"Mister Killrahb," called a white-tailed deer, weaving through the crowd with the agility typical of her species. She sprang over a rather indignant squirrel and landed in front of the lion, decked in coveralls and a toolbelt.

"Miss Shiptine," Killrahb greeted. "Is all going well?

Erika Shiptine was the contractor he had hired to oversee the electrical concerns of the upcoming concert. The community center was an old building, and its wiring was long overdue for renovations. A full rewiring would have been too costly and time-consuming, so the financiers – represented by Killrahb – had offered the city council a compromise. In exchange for expediting the concert, the financiers would cover the cost of an initial assessment for later rewiring.

The deer shook her head. "I'm afraid not. The system you brought in is all wrong. It won't work."

"Won't work?" echoed the lion, surprised. "But I checked the papers myself. It's the one I ordered."

"Well whether it is or not, it won't do the job."

Killrahb hummed. "Well, show me what the trouble is. Perhaps we can work something out."

She shrugged, none too fond of novices trying to negotiate with what she knew for a fact. It wasn't as if cut-and-dry electronics could be haggled up or down like a price. "This way," she waved with a tired sigh in her voice.

The system she showed him drew power from several parts of the building in an effort to avoid overloads. At its hub, amidst many cables, a computer was set up to control the flow of electricity for the lighting, speakers, and other necessities of the event.

"Now," asked Killrahb, "what exactly is the problem? Is there danger of any one wire drawing too much, or- ack!" He swatted at the back of his neck. "Hm. Better arrange some pest control for the... event." He stared at his paw, which was smeared with a pasty blue substance, and a cold dread fell over him. "Dear Heaven," he murmured in a raspy whisper as his throat went dry with fright. He'd seen the news broadcasts, and even with his mind beginning to slip, he _knew_.

Miss Shiptine stared at him. "Mister Kir-?"

"Run!" he ordered through clenched teeth, doubling over and grasping his head. "Run!"

Unadulterated horror swept over the doe as she realized what she was seeing. Without another syllable of protest, she fled. "Night Howler attack!" she screamed to all within hearing. "NIGHT HOWLER ATTACK!"

While the electrician's cries spread panic and disorder among all in hearing, the truth of the matter was already worse than any could have imagined. Left to his own devices, Regis Killrahb's thrashing had thrown him into the mess of wiring. By the time he got loose, thoroughly in the drug's sway, the system had begun to burn.

 **Hoo boy. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse... you know, never think it can't get worse. What's going to happen? Who fired the shot (hint: it wasn't Doug this time)? Perhaps strangest of all, what does Bogo want Nick for?**

 **Sorry for the delays, which is to say sorrier than usual. I was expecting to bang out the next few updates in pretty quick succession, but I was delayed by various problems. On the flip side, JrRangerScout brought something else up which made me realize I could stand to flesh out an upcoming point of the story, so I'll be writing another chapter. I'll keep it short, but to whet your appetites I'll offer this teaser: another OC who's been hiding in the wings will be making a reappearance, and it won't be friendly.**

 **The Easter Eggs are fairly straightforward. One which I will explain now is that Erika Shiptine is a modified version of the name Erik Shipton, the first western man to climb Mount Everest and the one who brought legends of the yeti to Europe. This is not a gender-bend, but rather possibly a descendant of the Zootopia-world explorer (don't ask me what would pass for yetis in that world; I have no idea and it's keeping me up at night). The "tine" part, of course, is a deer pun.**

 **The other Easter Egg – which some of you should guess with ease enough – is the game Kevin was playing.**

 **And just so you can all stop worrying, no; Judy does not end up with Kevin, as funny as that would be to show to the real Kevin. What real Kevin? Well, you'll have to find out when I post a little side project I've been working on; just a little more in-depth material about my OCs. Until then! *salutes***

 **Lastly, in case anyone is wondering, evidently "Who's on First" is public domain as per a Supreme Court decision a while back. So those who might have worried can relax, and those who just want to lighten up can check it out on YouTube. You won't be sorry, I promise.**


	18. Eighteen: Ugly Beauty

Alright, because this chapter is basically all bad news, I want to start with some good news: winerp is just fine, and was not in a hurricane zone. He just fell out of contact due to life. Also, Beecroft has talked me into writing a sequel to _Christmas in Bunnyborrow_ , whch hopefully won't be nearly so rushed as the first since I'm giving myself a couple months' lead.

I've been looking over some of the previous chapters and making adjustments in response to all the helpful observations (and a less helpful one which I will not identify) of small flaws and points for improvement, as well as to weave in some slight foreshadowing here and there and to flesh out some bits I found wanting. My thanks to everyone for their feedback, and to some of you out there for inspiration I drew from your stories as well. As to last chapter's reviews, I'm glad the antics were as much fun for you all as they were for me to write. If only this chapter were as comical, but police work is seldom fun and games.

" **If the man is caught, (the papers will say it's) on account of their exertions. If he escapes, it'll be in spite of their efforts. It's heads I win and tails you lose. Whatever they do, they'll have followers."**

 **Sherlock Holmes,** **A Study in Scarlet** **by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle**

By the time Judy explained the whole story, she and Nick were in Nick's car, speeding toward the community center. She had grabbed her badge in hopes of placating any officers who caught them breaking the speed limit, but what she really needed was something to placate Nick. She had expected him to take the news badly, and for the first time that day (to her endless dismay) she was dead-on.

"So, let me get this straight," complained the fox. If he hadn't been driving he would have been folding his arms or gesturing with them like he did that time at the press conference. "You nearly got bombed, the sheep we're after are working for some new terrorist in town, they're going to dart mammals again _every time_ we make some headway, and you're only telling me all of this _now_ because there's been an attack?!"

Had it been possible, Judy would have liked nothing better than to sink into the seat and disappear. It didn't help that the traffic around them – and especially ahead – was forcing Nick to slow down, which gave him more opportunities to look in her direction. "I wanted to," she protested, turning her head to him and throwing out her paws in a pleading gesture. "I tried to call you as soon as I found out about Obearon, but I was ordered not to."

He huffed. "You mean like when you were _ordered_ to hand over your badge?"

She winced. Okay, so he had a fair gripe; he'd stood up for her and she hadn't stood up for him. Still, it was a low blow. "That was different," she insisted. "Look, Bogo doesn't trust you yet, and-"

"News flash of the century," Nick quipped sarcastically. "But I thought _you_ did."

Again, the words hit like a poisoned arrow straight to the heart. "Nick, I have to be on my best behavior. If we don't satisfy Chief Bogo, you'll lose your shot at joining the ZPD. And then I'll _always_ be stuck keeping secrets from you." Feeling defensive, she added, "Besides, after that little stunt you pulled I could make a case for not trusting you if I really wanted to do it."

That brought Nick up short. Okay, so his intentions had been good, but in retrospect... yeah, the prank had been kind of a jerk move. Hilarious, but immature – and _really_ ill-timed.

"I guess that's fair," he said slowly, his anger deflating. "Look, I'm sorry about the phone prank. I was just trying to liven your mood a little, that's all. I didn't know..." he trailed off.

She sighed. She'd probably make him apologize to Kevin later, and maybe prank him back on principle, but this wasn't the time. "Forget it. If it's any help, it wasn't about you being a fox; not completely, anyway. It's because you're not a cop. I know you can keep quiet, but the other officers don't – yet. They wanted to make sure no one told the press and started a panic."

Nick pulled into the sole open parking space and surveyed the mess of mammals ahead with a sorry expression. "Yeah, well, too late for that."

The police had cordoned off the whole area within a two-block radius, and as officers rushed in a swarm of civilians strained to get a glimpse of the action. Others, being a bit wiser, perhaps, were getting out of the area with roars and bellows ringing in their ears. Over it all, in the distance, rose a thick cloud of black smoke which caught their attention.

"What in the-?" asked Nick, gaping upward.

A thundering blast from a very large vehicle horn sounded behind them, making them jump in their seat belts.

"Move!" shouted a familiar voice.

Both of them looked back and street-ward to see a massive, rugged-looking boxy vehicle evidently aiming to pull into their space. At its wheel, rising up in his seat to look at them more freely over the titanic hood, was Chief Bogo.

Nick's surprise only lasted a moment. "Move?!" he protested. "There's nowhere else to park! And you called us here!"

Bogo snorted, put his car in park, and hit the blinkers. Then, as the two diminutive mammals stared at him in curiosity and a bit of fear spurred by plain sanity, he stepped out, picked up Wilde's car, and moved it – occupants and all – onto the sidewalk.

"Hey, watch the paint! Watch the paint!" jabbered Nick as Bogo set the car down with surprising dexterity. Then he pulled his own car into the newly opened space and stepped out.

"Move, you two!" he thundered, shouldering his way through the crowd.

Nick, casting one last anxious look at his car, raced after with Judy at his side. "Wide load, wide path," he remarked mirthlessly as they used Bogo's bulk to their advantage in navigating the sea of mammals.

Under any other circumstances, Judy might have laughed. As it was, she couldn't help noticing that despite his attire – namely a T-shirt which struggled to contain his torso and cargo pants which managed to be a bit baggy even on him – Bogo exuded such an air of imposing command that even elephants got out of his way if they knew what was good for them.

"He must keep his pager with him on days off," she remarked aloud.

"I thought he was always a bit off," Nick replied.

When Bogo pulled to an abrupt halt, the two of them were moving so quickly that they plowed smack into the backs of his legs. Whether he didn't notice or just didn't care, no one could tell. They had evidently reached the police barricade, and Bogo was grilling Officer Higgins. The hippo, in uniform, was one of a score or so of officers who were working to maintain a perimeter against mammals who clearly had more courage than sense – or maybe it was more madness than sense. Even with a good many firefighters, EMTs, and one or two Good Ramaritans lending their aid, it was a tough job maintaining any semblance of order.

"What's the situation?!" demanded Bogo.

"Savage lion, sir," Higgins reported, "and the community center's on fire."

"Knockout darts?"

"Ineffective, sir. They barely slowed him down, and he's put four officers in serious condition already."

Judy gasped. Darts had been their most effective weapon during the months-long Night Howler crisis (tasers and net guns were useful too, but riskier). Hearing that they weren't working was like a black sunrise; totally unthinkable.

"We've got officers in there trying to take him down," the hippo went on.

"Let me in there!" called a rhino, nearly stepping on Nick and Judy as he tried to barge through. "I've got a black belt!"

Bogo turned to him with a glare. "You get out of here or you'll have a black eye – from _me!"_

The rhino, cowed by Bogo's stare alone, hastily withdrew. Bogo turned to Judy and Nick. "Light pole over there," he pointed. "Climb up and see if you can spot anyone suspicious. Whoever did this might still be around."

"Anyone suspicious?" echoed Nick. "With all the rubber-neckers around – no offense, ma'am," he added to a giraffe who somehow heard him amid all the other noise and kicked him for the remark. Returning to Bogo, he asked, "How are we supposed to identify if someone's a suspect?"

"Weapons, laughing. Use your imagination." Looking pointedly at Nick, he added, "I understand your friend here has a good track record finding trouble."

Neither of them knew whether to take that as a compliment or a shot at Nick's trustworthiness. In a way it was actually both; though he didn't say it, Bogo's reasoning was that even if Nick didn't ID a probable suspect, the culprit might know Nick and be drawn into the snare that way instead.

"MOVE!" Bogo bellowed.

The two of them were off like a shot, leaving Bogo to talk to Higgins alone... and give an order at which the hippo paled.

* * *

The miniature sleuths hastily navigated to the light pole, which consisted of a central pillar too smooth to climb easily and an array of tree-like branches at the top, each tipped with a light.

"How do we get up?" asked Judy. There wasn't anything nearby to use as a springboard the way she had when she was doling out parking tickets.

"Leave it to me, Carrots," Nick promised. Then, stopping, he cupped his paws around his muzzle and hollered up to a moose who, like every other mammal in sight, was craning for a view of the action. "Hey, Mort!"

The moose looked down. "Nick! What brings you here?"

"Same as anyone," Nick shrugged, thinking it best not to advertise his real business. He pointed to a nearby light pole with an ample number of tree-like branches. "Mind giving me and my friend here a lift up?"

"Yeah, sure." The cervine bent down and grasped Nick with his hooves, expertly tossing him up to the branches. The fox expertly caught a branch, swung himself nimbly up, and perched as neatly as a sailor in rigging.

"Miss?" asked the moose, turning to Judy.

Judy hesitated. She had never much cared for the indignity of being lifted and thrown in the air, except by her dad when she was a _lot_ smaller. Still, they did need some way to see over the heads of the crowd. So when the moose interlocked his fingers, she hopped into the step and allowed herself to be propelled upward, leaping at the peak of Morris' throw and joining Nick in the canopy.

"Thanks Morris. Love ya. Owe ya." Nick called, pointing both index claws at the moose who now looked almost as small to them as they normally must have looked to him.

Morris tossed off a salute, then turned back to the action.

Judy had meant to start searching the crowd right off, but a crash from somewhere in the cordoned area caught her attention. She looked up, and saw a sight she could never forget.

The community center was now in full blaze, with flames blasting out on all sides. As Judy watched, a pair of grappling figures tumbled into view: Officer Fangmeyer, and a _very_ savage maneless lion. Both were torn and bloody, and before the bunny's horrified eyes the lion rolled over on top of Fangmeyer and thrust his slavering jaw down towards the tiger's neck. Desperately, Fangmeyer managed to throw up an arm and ram it crosswise under her attacker's chin, blocking him inches shy of her throat. A second later, two figures caught up: an equally haggard Officer Delgato, and...

"Chief Bogo?!" cried Judy in shop. The buffalo, still in plainclothes and apparently unarmed, had ordered his way through the barricade and flung himself into the fray.

"Flank!" ordered the chief, and hurled himself directly on the attacker. With precision belying his bulk, he skillfully caught Mr Killrahb – for of course it was he – and with a heave peeled him off of Fangmeyer as momentum carried them both into a roll. The maneuver ended with Bogo lying on top of Killrahb, where his weight – Judy hoped – would keep the lion trapped.

Killrahb, however, was not going down easily. Snarling and scrabbling, he managed to latch a set of hooked claws into Bogo and tear five long gashes down the buffalo's massive forearm. Then, managing to gain purchase, he threw himself upward just as Delgato came around. The leonine officer's body blocked any view of the strike, but Judy wold later learn that he had delivered a solid punch to Killrahb's forehead.

Nick let out a low whistle. "I may never sass that guy again," he uttered.

It was about then that Judy remembered what she and Nick were doing up on a light pole. "The culprit!"

They returned to their duty, each mentally cursing themselves for their distraction. If whoever darted that lion had escaped while they were rubbernecking, they might never forgive themselves.

It was Judy who spotted something out of the ordinary first. "Hey," she pointed, "isn't that one of those vixens we met in TundraTown?"

Nick whipped his head to follow her pointing paw, and saw a small white figure poking out amidst the crowd. "Awe, fudge," he muttered. "Yep, that's one of them alright. Amelia, I think."

"Bad news?"

"They're all bad news," he replied dismally. His ears were back, and his eyes had lost their usual spark.

Judy swung down so that she hung from a branch by one paw with her legs and free arm encircling the main pole. "Think we should see what she's up to?" she asked.

Nick considered. This was definitely _not_ Mr. Big's style, but then the Angels had been known to make trouble on their own time. It was anyone's guess what they'd be doing mixed up in this matter – if they were at all, of course – but there was only one way to find out. "Guess we'd better," he agreed.

The two slid down like a pair of trained fire mammals, then ducked and dodged through the crowd to where they saw the vixen. When they got there, however, she had slipped out of sight.

"One of us should have stayed topside to relay info," Judy fumed, little suspecting that they were being watched.

Nick was about to agree when a sultry voice interrupted. "Well, small world after all."

Both of them turned and suppressed a groan. Vanya White had come up and was now facing Nick, locking eyes with him and drawing in her arms to emphasize the slimness of her build. It didn't help that she was wearing a close-fitting white dress clearly designed to trap males' eyes like glue, or that it had areas of fluff adorning it – such as an Arctic vixen could tolerate in that setting – which at a glance made it look like it covered less than it really did. She regarded him seductively from under a broad hat which shaded her against the harsh daylight – and which, conveniently, had also hidden her from view when seen from above.

"You look rather warm, Nicholas," she joked. "A bit red in the face, in fact." Lifting one side of her hat, she teased, "Perhaps you'd enjoy the shade?"

Judy cleared her throat. "Excuse me, but if you don't mind, we're not here to chit-chat."

Vanya eyed her skeptically, and with all the respect she might give to a mouse who had asked her for some trivial assistance. "Oh, did I misunderstand something? I didn't know the police had Casual Dress days."

"Very funny," Judy answered bitingly, doing her best to make up for the very un-commanding air of her blue T-shirt and black pants. "Now, would you mind telling me what you're doing so far from TundraTown? We don't get many Arctic foxes around here."

In answer, the vixen widened her eyes in a masquerade of offense. "Oh!" she cried, placing a paw on her chest in an exaggerated gesture of mock-innocence. "Are you _profiling_ me because of my species, officer?"

Judy drummed a foot impatiently, wondering which of the two foxes present had taught the other entirely too well. Vanya mocked just like Nick used to do, except that somehow from Nick it could seem funny in retrospect. That seemed pretty unlikely with Vanya. Also, there was something eerily familiar hanging about the vixen like a cloud, familiar and in eery way unpleasant in its presence.

"If you must know," Vanya went on, "I was on business for my employer. His other help lacks... well, a finer touch, shall we say. I finished my business, saw trouble, and stopped by to see what was the matter. Nicholas here can at least tell you that I never could stay away from a mess."

Nick, to his displeasure, had to nod at that. "Whether you made it or not," he added.

"Yes," added Judy, recognizing at last what had been bugging her. "I can't help noticing you smell like-"

"Ah! Don't want to say that in this crowd," Vanya advised holding up an index claw.

Judy fumed. ""That you smell like _Midnicampum holicithias_ ," she concluded, comforting herself a little as Vanya's expression dropped in confusion. "Pretty convenient that you show up smelling like them _here_." As she spoke, she reached for her taser and undid the buckle keeping it in its holster.

Vanya saw the move, but never stirred. "Oh, you bunnies. So excitable," she taunted. "I'm so hurt that Nick never told you more about me. I happen to be very fond of perfumes which use this flower. Brings out the _vixen_ in me, doesn't it Nicholas?" She purred this last, glancing to her former boyfriend.

Judy could hardly help pausing and glancing at Nick. She knew his past was messed up, but just how far had he _gone_ with this witch?

Nick frowned. "I can vouch for you wearing _Pwasson's Passion_ ," he asserted, catching Judy's look, "but nothing else. Anyway, if it _is_ just perfume, you won't mind Officer Hopps here taking you to answer a few questions, right?"

Vanya chuckled. "Why, Wilde, I'm surprised you of all foxes could be so naïve. You _must_ be losing your edge." Reaching out and grasping him by the tie, she went on in her purring tone, "I know a lot about you, you know; things which I'm sure even your friend with the badge would find quite interesting. So if I were you, I'd do everything in my power to convince the bunny in blue not to even _try_ taking me in for questioning. You know me, and you know I do love to talk."

Nick's head was suddenly yanked down a bit as Judy reached up and grabbed his tie at the mid-way point, glaring up at the vixen. She didn't open her mouth, but her violet eyes gave all the signals she needed to convey. _Nobody_ messed with her or her friend, especially not some bleached bimbo with a goddess complex.

Vanya just looked down on her – literally and figuratively – with a superior, haughty gaze and smirk before she let go of Nick and sashayed away into the crowd. She didn't hurry, for there was no need – and besides, it was much more fun to remind them by the very way she walked that pursuit could completely ruin them.

"That was fantastic," Amelia said in a hushed tone when her compatriot reached her.

"Thank you." Vanya donned the proffered garment, which was made like an oercoat much of much more breathable material. She would have preferred the dress without the jacket, but as much as she loved being the center of attention, she knew the value of being unobtrusive.

"I'm so glad we came," she remarked cheerfully. "I dare say Nick won't forget me soon after _this_ run-in."

The vixens stifled their laughter as they made for the nearest subway station. It was time to get back to their usual stomping grounds.

* * *

Vanya had left Nick paralyzed with slowly growing dread, and Judy in a similar state from shock. Nick was worried, but Judy was just plain ticked.

"Rrgh!" she growled, throwing her fists down at her sides. She forgot she was still holding Nick's tie, and jumped at his startled yelp as he tumbled to all fours.

"Sorry!" she cried, releasing him and hastening to help him up.

Nick accepted the apology, dusting himself off. "I'll live," he rasped, "but next time, would you mind just grabbing my shirt or something?" He loosened his tie a little to clarify his point. "It just so happens I really don't look good in purple."

Despite the fox's banter, he was as decidedly bleak as their predicament. Strictly speaking, Bogo's plan had worked on both counts: Nick had spotted a definite suspect, _and_ his presence had drawn one in. Unfortunately, the end result put them farther back than ever... and a roar in the distance reminded them both that the crisis was still very much at large.

 **Aw, snap. Sure enough, it's going from bad to worse. Why do I get the feeling Bogo's not going to be happy that his plan didn't work –** _ **if**_ **he survives to find out? What's Vanya got up her sleeves, and what lies in store for Regis Killrahb and the concert? Well, you'll have to find out with the next update.**

 **On a lighter note, some of you may recognize the scene where Judy and Vanya both have Nick by the tie; I based it on the cover art by KungFuFreak of DeviantArt. Once I saw that a tie-grab would tie in, I just couldn't leave it hanging there (yes, I just said that). Had to get some humor in there somewhere, because as you can tell, things are getting heavy now.**

 **Thanks again for all the reviews. I especially appreciate the ones noting what I'm doing well and what I need to work on. It really helps me flesh this story out. And in appreciation, I've decided to start something new: Post some constructive criticism, and suggest a mammal species you would like to see in the story. Hybrids are OK if they are ones which actually appear in the real world (e.g. ligers, coywolves, etc.). Limit one species per review, three entries per chapter. First come, first serve.**

 **Not sure if I should count these as Easter Eggs, but you may recognize some lines reminiscent of...**

 **Home Alone 2**

 **The Last Battle** **by C.S. Lewis**


	19. Nineteen: Darkness Rises

I actually had what's going to be chapter 20 ready much earlier... but, after looking at it as a potential chapter 19, I decided that there were a couple of things I needed to cover before we saw the police reaction; chiefly, the much-pondered question of what Vanya was doing anyway. So before we see the police action, let's take a look at the city... with evil on the rise.

Proofread by JrRangerScout and Hawktooth

" **Prepare if you can, (creatures of) Redwall. Cluny is coming, and no mouse – alive or otherwise – is going to stop him."**

 **Cluny the Scourge,** _ **Redwall: The Animated Series**_

"In the latest news, the city is in turmoil over a Night Howler attack that occurred just three hours ago. For those just tuning in, the nightmare unfolded at the Zootopia Community Center when community and business leader Regis Killrahb, making ready for the Unity Concert so many have been looking forward to, was darted with the infamous plant extract. We have now confirmed the rumor that, at the time of his darting, he was close to an electrical system being prepared for the event, and his rampage damaged the system, causing an electrical fire."

The scene cut to a clip from earlier of the building in question, seen from a helicopter.

"The fire is still burning, but we have word from the fire department that it is now under control and should soon be out. No word yet if the building will be salvageable or not."

The screen returned to the snow leopard and her anchor, who picked up the narrative.

"The police have not yet released any official statement, but it seems as though this is some new element in the recent Bellwether Conspiracy. With the plot against predators exposed, the motive for these new crimes remains un-"

Judy closed the browser which had been playing the news broadcast. It had been depressing enough the first time, and by now she had lost count of how many rehashes the story had endured.

After the flop at the Community Center, and failing to get in touch with Chief Bogo, Judy had briefly informed Officer Higgins that they had nothing to report as to who might have committed the crime. The consternation stirred up by the brief brush with Vanya had only made things worse.

For want of any better plan, they had retreated back to Judy's apartment – and then Nick's after an argument broke out between the neighbors over what kind of job the police were (or weren't) doing to handle the crisis.

To Judy's surprise and unease, Nick hadn't even made a wisecrack about her moving out of the dump. That was the other thing that was bothering her. It would have been bad enough that the city had been attacked on her watch, that she'd been helpless to stop it, and that her top suspect was literally taunting her to her face. Seeing how it all got to Nick, though... that just about did her in.

"Any idea how we can stop her?" she asked.

He shook his head. "She's good; the best Mr. Big has." Knowing what must be on her mind, he added, "That's kind of how she and I met. Mr. Big put us in touch; probably hoped that she'd help to secure my loyalty."

Judy could guess what he meant. She knew that in old times, royalty would give their daughters to other royalty as a way of ensuring peace between territories. It probably shouldn't have surprised her so much that a crime boss in the present would do the same thing with his staff, but it still made her feel sick. Even with them now being sort-of family (once or twice removed), it was a tough thing to stomach.

She looked at her phone again, wondering when Mr. Big would answer her message... and if Vanya would realize they had complained. If that happened, she could only imagine the kind of trouble the white vixen would give them next.

* * *

Over in TundraTown, the self-same vixen leaned over Mr. Big's desk and kissed the shrew's tiny ring. The dim light and dark fixtures harmonized to the uttermost with the dark nature of their business.

"Did everything go as planned?" asked the shrew, steepling his fingers.

The smile decorating Vanya's pallid visage was all her own: sinister, salacious, and thoroughly pleased. "I could not have asked for better," she purred. "The Cloven Hoof's manager never saw _half_ of what Amelia and I have to offer, and he hired us both without a thought." The nature of the half the manager hadn't seen needed no discussion.

"I trust you will not mind being waitresses for a while," Mr. Big ventured. "I know it's below your usual standing." This comment was, of course, purely in sport; they both knew very well that Vanya would endure many indignities – even revel in some – as long as she was able to rip someone down from a seemingly impregnable perch at the end of it. It was the moment of dawning realization she loved best about her job; the sudden epiphany on the part of her chosen victim that they had been well and thoroughly betrayed.

"Just doing my job," she replied, curtsying. "If those sheep are hiding there, we'll have them soon; I promise."

"Correction," came the nasal answer. "The authorities will have them. We do nothing unless I say otherwise. If we take out the sheep, the search will go on and risk leading to us, and whether the sheep are criminals or not our... unsavory history might be exposed. If the authorities do it, the sheep still get theirs... and, should I ever need to use it, the police will owe me a favor."

Vanya suppressed a scowl. It was one thing to play subservience to someone while plotting their ruin; to tally up one indignity after another while plotting how to repay each and every one a dozen fold. It was quite another, however, when her boss – the one mammal besides her 'sisters' whom she respected enough to fear – was talking about working in cooperation with the law. _I knew he was going soft when he married his little Fru-Fru off to an honest shrew_ , she mused. Though she officially minded her own business and did her job, she knew everything that went on in the house. Everything.

Mr. Big regarded her warily. "I understand you were at the little incident in Savannah Central," he added gravely.

"You sent me to get information about missing sheep with Night Howler darts," she answered calmly – and yet, perhaps, a tad defensively. "Mass chaos seemed like a good place to pick up information."

"And your old flame Wilde had nothing to do with it?" asked Mr. Big.

Vanya could feel her blood pressure spike. The only ones who would even know to report that to her boss were Amelia, Nick, and that bunny. She would have laid down any odds someone cared to name against Nick bringing such a complaint to Mr. Big, and Amelia would cut her own tongue out before snitching on any of the sisters. _Pesky rabbit,_ she thought with disgust and annoyance.

"I didn't even know Nick would be there," she answered coldly.

It was clear enough that the shrew was not convinced. "I want you to stay away from Wilde," he said point-blank. "Things are strictly business between you two now. You had your chance, Vanya. Move along."

The meeting concluded, and as Vanya left the room she glanced around for polar bears before letting her body express itself. The moment she was satisfied of the massive mammals' absence, her fur puffed out in anger and her ears snapped flat against her head. Her paws curled tight as the very blood in her veins seemed to turn to fire. It had been bad enough when Nick had turned her down. Nobody – _nobody! –_ turned her down. Now, having that miserable rabbit reporting to Mr. Big if she stepped out of line and had a little fun...

 _No._ No cop was going to get in her way. Hopps wasn't the first to come sniffing around her trail, looking to pin her to the wall. However, all former comers had boiled down to strict business. This time, it was revenge.

 _And I think I know just how to do it,_ she mused, trailing her claws over a stray patch of ice on the wall and smiling cruelly at the grating sound. She had neglected to mention something in her report to Mr. Big: that there had been telltale signs of another fox in the Cloven Hoof. Vanya would bet her fur it was Nick's old friend Finnick. She had no particular grievance against him, but she filed the information away in her mind for later reference. His investigation of the place could be useful to her own, and his closeness to Nick... oh yes, that could be _very_ useful.

* * *

Once more in the lonely office, Obearon brooded over the fiasco which had unfolded.

 _Fools,_ thought the planner. _I'm_ surrounded _by fools!_ The attack had been meant to throw the police on the defensive and cripple Killrahb, not destroy the community center!

In a fit of rage, Obearon's fist came down on the table. "I needed that building intact!"

Close at hand, a confidant spoke. "The schedule will be changed," he reasoned, "but surely events-"

"Take care," Obearon warned in a low, angry voice. "This is _my_ play; _my stage_. I do not _tolerate_ changes in the program. _None_ , do you hear me?!"

The unfortunate mammal backed down. "Understood. Erm, what do you want to do now?"

With a firm effort, Obearon put anger aside and gave precious thought to the question. As simple as it was, it was also deadly serious. These kinds of situations called for two things: improvisation, and readiness. Fortunately, the former was in ample supply and the latter was easily arranged.

"Get me Faust."

* * *

Doug was not in the best of moods. His good moods were about as common as a jackalope to begin with, but being dragged from a rare bit of down-time to have another faceless chat with Obearon was a sure way to get him in worse spirits than usual.

"Tell me, Faust, how are your reserves?"

Doug did a few mental calculations. "About two dozen of the darts." He'd had a lot more time to work with since going underground and abandoning his day job and personal life, though he was hardly pleased with the trade. "And if I re-concentrate the new formula, I can make at least fifty more."

"No, no, nothing of the sort. Dismantle most of the darts. We'll settle for half a dozen as reserves."

The chemist was stunned. "What?! But boss, we're not even sure if Formula Three will work!"

"All the more reason for you to maximize your materials for researching it. Don't try to tell me how to terrorize; theatricality is what I do best, and nothing bores the public more than watching the same play over and over. We'll keep enough of the darts to keep them guessing, and we can always make more at a pinch. We have enough of the flowers for that. However, I want you focused on the main plan. Do you understand me?"

Doug sighed and grumbled. He didn't like being out of the loop, and although he knew what Obearon wanted the new formula to _do_ , the who, where, and when of the matter were as much a mystery to him as the how was to the boss.

"Yeah, I got you."

"Good. I'll expect the changes to be made promptly."

Once Doug was back in his lab, he checked around for hidden cameras and went to work dismantling the darts as instructed. Wearing heavy gloves which went clear up to his elbows, he pricked the spheres one by one and squeezed them into a collection of beakers. He had to be careful not to let even a tiny drop of the formula touch him.

The whole time, he grumbled to himself about that imperious buffoon, Obearon. There was one thing, however, which the mastermind didn't know: he had lied about the number of extra darts.

Taking one last look for signs of surveillance, he took six of the spheres and slipped them whole into a beaker. Stopping up the top, he pocketed the vial and went back to his work, as ordered, with the rest. Now he had an arsenal of his own, and he could match that blowhard shot for shot.

Obearon wasn't the only one who knew how to prepare and improvise.

* * *

Some hours later at the Poisson Mansion, a mantle of gloom lay thick and stifling over the house staff as Olivia Poisson returned home. As usual, Lillian was waiting for her, flanked by the ever-present Barracus.

"Miss Poisson," greeted the former, "did all go well today?"

Miss Poisson looked as if she had just found an eggshell in a thirty-dollar omelet; an _entire_ eggshell. She did, however, maintain some composure. "Except for the news reports of the attack," she replied calmly. "And the ruined Community Center."

"I'm sure the police will find whoever did it," Barracus remarked.

The lady of the house huffed. "Perhaps it will get them to stop sending officers to bother a busy woman," she answered airily. "No, it's the concert I'm worried about."

Guessing that Olivia's concerns had to do with the time and money which had gone into making the concert possible, Lillian bit her lip and removed a note from her clipboard. "You got a call about that," said she. "Regis Killrahb's secretary said there's to be an emergency meeting about the arrangements."

Olivia scanned the notice, and her expression seemed to lighten – or at least give way to thinking instead of fuming. "Very well. I will have to cancel some appointments."

"I will go see to it," offered Barracus. "By your leave, of course, miss."

She nodded. "So be it. Then you may go home. I am sure your wife will be most anxious about these events."

For some reason this did not seem to please the hyena very much as he departed.

Olivia, hardly concerned with Barracus' dissatisfaction, went on her own way and signaled with a paw for Lillian to come with her. "I have some things to attend to for which I will want your able assistance," said she, smoothly as oil.

No further words passed between them until they were alone. Then, at last, Olivia spoke freely. "You seem troubled, Lillian. Has the news upset you so much?"

The younger skunk shook her head. "It is a shock," she admitted, "though I guess I'm sort of used to things like this now. If I may speak honestly, though..."

"Of course. You know I always welcome your thoughts."

Lillian took a deep breath. "It's you that I'm worried about. You seem much too calm about this – and to be honest, I'm guessing it was mostly about the numbers. Mammals were probably _killed_ today."

It would be unfair to say that no pang passed through the elder skunk at that accusation, but unjust to say that she let it stay her. "Without the concert," she pointed out without any pause, "there will be much less help for those still living. Delays and re-thinking can only cut into the profits, which can only harm all concerned."

"Yes, but... well, I can't help thinking that your father would handle it differently. His first concern was always about people, not plans or money. I'm sure he wouldn't like you being investigated by the police or taking it the way you are. It just seems... well, I don't like it. You may be doing what you think is best, but I don't like it."

If there was one person in the world who could strike guilt into the heart of Olivia D. Poisson, it was her chief maid and foremost companion. However, Olivia had her pride. She would not let even Lillian see her as troubled as she was in danger of becoming.

"I can manage myself tonight," said she. "You should go home. Your parents may worry about you."

Lillian could not help worrying, but she knew it as useless to argue. "Yes, Olivia," she assented. Then she curtsied, and took her leave.

Olivia retired to her bath, sitting in silence as the deodorizing soap soaked into her fur and pores. Even as the water, Lillian's words soaked into her mind. There was indeed no question that she had fallen, as the saying went, quite far from the tree. Certainly a good deal farther than her father would have supposed.

 _Lillian is naïve,_ she mused. She had been rather dismayed when the young lady had shown no interest in pursuing finance or any kind of management beyond the mansion's household affairs, but perhaps it was for the best. _She is too direct and too innocent for the drama of high industry,_ she reflected.

And yet, Lillian's plea had sparked something in her mind; a chain of thoughts and fancies like a trail of gunpowder, leading all the way to a sudden burst of inspiration.

The situation at paw, unfortunate as it was, could have certain... possibilities.

 **So, there you all have it. Judy and Nick bracing themselves, and Vanya, Obearon, and Olivia all rolling up their sleeves for... what? Who is going to win Mr. Big versus Vanya? Obearon versus Doug? Poisson versus Lillian? And... who's going to get caught in the crossfire?**

 **I should add a couple of notes now. I already mentioned the reason for the delay, which is one thing (the good news is that the next chapter will be a snap, as it only needs one or two small changes now). The second is that, in light of recent terrorist activity, I want to offer my deepest sympathies to those who have looked into the face of evil. You might have guessed already that some scenes in this story later on will be hard to stomach for that reason, and I can only hope that perhaps the way I handle it in my own writing will at best make it easier for the inexperienced to grasp, and at worst do as little harm as possible. My prayers are with you all.**

 **No Easter Egg hunt this time.**


	20. Twenty: Orders from the Top

Alright, we are officially up to 20 chapters. I know it's the day befre Thanksgiving (don't let this chapter keep you from your relatives; it can wait), but since apart from one short piece it was already proofread and I picked up a very interested new reader, I saw no reason to delay. Proofreading, again, is by JrRangerScout and Hawktooth.

Enjoy!

 **Superman: "Sorry. (Batman) doesn't trust anyone."**

 **Martian Manhunter: "A wise policy."**

 _ **Justice League**_

The following morning, the ZPD was a bustle of activity. Because of the serious nature of things, there was a greater crowd than usual. Extra officers had been borrowed from other precincts to step up patrols, civilians were coming in or phoning in with concern that bordered on paranoia, and a few journalists sniffed about – so to speak – for any leads they could get on the developing trouble. Bogo had only been there a short while, and he had already had to evict three mice, a couple of rabbits, and who knew who or what else from his office, where they had slipped in trying to get a scoop.

At his front desk, Ben ducked as the chief, clearly in an ill temper even by his standards, walked past with two possums at arm's length, swinging by their tails.

"Ow, ow!" one cried. "Dude, that's not how you carry a possum! The super-tail thing is a myth!"

"Shut up, Eddy!" exclaimed the other. "This is totally your fault! If you hadn't given us away, we could have listened in!"

"Hey, you were the one who wanted to go to Bug-rito Barn last night, bro," complained the first.

Under other circumstances, the contrast of their impertinence and the chief's grim demeanor – the latter being augmented by enough stitches and bandages to make Frankenstripe look handsome and healthy – would have been funny. Ben strained to hear their bickering through the background noise, and was about to get back up when his nose caught a tantalizing aroma.

 _Could it be?_

He looked around and suddenly blinked. There, under his desk, was a box of donuts! For a long moment, he could only stare in confusion. How had they gotten there? Had someone left them for him as an act of mercy? Had he put them there before the bet and then forgotten?

More importantly, was anyone looking? He hung suspended over them for a long moment, his mouth watering to the point of drippage in a matter of seconds. Then he pulled back as his conscience warred against his stomach.

 _'No! You made a deal with Bogo!'_

 _'Donuts.'_

 _'Come on, cat, you've only got one day left to go.'_

 _'Donuts.'_

 _'Ben,_ Ben! _Show some willpower.'_

 _'Donuts.'_

 _'Or, hey! Look at the snack Judy brought you. Nice snack. Good snack. Yummy, greasy, cheesy snack.'_

 _'Doooonnnuuuuuttsssss...'_

* * *

In the bullpen, the usual demeanor was nowhere in sight. Despite a few awkward attempts to start arm wrestling matches or banter, nobody had the heart to do much of anything except talk in very subdued tones about the trouble new menace hanging over their city. Officers who had been on duty the previous day shared what they knew to circles of those who hadn't, all the while casting furtive glances around as if they expected another darting attack in that very room at any moment. Cops borrowed from other precincts hovered at the edges of the room like teenage wallflowers. Judy, despite her usual eagerness to be in the thick of things, was glad enough that few saw her and fewer knew she had been on the scene. She was in no frame of mind for storytelling. Heck, she didn't even have the heart to fist-bump any of her fellow officers.

What little spirit there was in the room died in an instant when Bogo came in. Every exposed part of him boasted bruises or stitches of some kind. A collection of long sewn-up lines on one arm, trailing up into his sleeve, showed where the lion had clawed him the day before. A few sharp eyes in the room spotted bulges in his uniform betraying bandages underneath, and one or two could have sworn they saw a line on one of his horns where a piece had broken and been repaired with medical superglue.

With his somber appearance amplified by the silence, Bogo stepped to the lectern. Despite the sorry shape his body was in, his eyes held their grim resolve as firmly as ever.

"I see you already know about the recent attack," he noted firmly, as if daring someone to ask a question. "I'm going to keep this brief, everyone. The city is in an uproar, and it's up to us to settle it. Now, we already have one clue as to the culprits. Someone going by the name 'Obearon' has already claimed responsibility and made it clear that for every hit we score on him and his operation, whatever it is, he will launch other similar attacks. By the looks of it, he's using the leftovers of Bellwether's recent operation, including the Night Howler darts."

Uneasy glances passed around the room at this news. The one hopeful thought in anyone's mind – predators in particular – was that now everyone knew it was a chemical agent and not some buried instinct or gene, and at least turning society against a certain demographic was no longer a prospect. It was a hope soon to be overshadowed by the true enormity of the crisis at hand.

"I have only two things to say about this," Bogo went on. "One is that we will not let this rogue intimidate us. I want everyone tracking every lead they can to find out who he is, who his contacts are, and what he's doing. _But!_ … do not strike without authorization.

"The other is that there's a new development in our investigation of the Night Howler attacks. The dart used yesterday was a different formula from those used in the past incidents. The forensics lab hasn't finished analyzing the residue, but it looks as though whoever's behind this has added something that blunts the effects of our knockout darts, as well as a painkiller strong enough to counteract a taser. In yesterday's attack, fifteen officers were badly injured taking down one darted lion, and they all exhausted their supplies before engaging him by paw."

Judy felt not only her own unease at this statement, but the full wave of it spreading over her fellow officers as well. Tasers, as it was generally well-known, worked by using an electric charge to short out motor muscles and thus paralyzing their targets. The charge, however, only ran for a limited time so as to prevent side effects like heart failure. The real value of a taser was that it hurt so much, few suspects were inclined to resist after a single jolt. Even if they did, further discouragement was just a trigger pull away as long as the prongs – which were barbed like fish hooks – stayed embedded. It was fairly effective even on savage animals, as were knockout darts, but if a mammal could just bounce right back up from a taser shot like nothing had happened once the juice was off...

"So what are we going to do about that?" asked Francine. "Those were our two best ways of responding before."

"That's right," added Delgato, "and net guns take too long to reload after a miss."

Bogo frowned. "I hesitate to go this route, but in light of the crisis, I am issuing orders for use of regular firearms until we find the ones behind this and bring them down."

 _That_ froze the blood in Judy's veins. "R-regular firearms, chief?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes, Hopps. Yours hasn't come in yet, but I have some other matters to discuss with you. In the meantime, the rest of you all have your assignments. Dismissed."

The room rapidly cleared out, leaving Judy alone with the chief... or so she thought.

"Hopps, I'm sure you already know the state of the case as fully as I do."

She nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm sure once we get Nick – I mean Wilde – in on the information, we'll be able to close this case up in short order."

Bogo rumbled deep in his chest. "I still have doubts about your methods, Hopps."

Judy, unsurprised by his bluntness, answered in an equally blunt manner. "With all due respect, sir, I think you forget that it was with his help that I cracked the case and captured Bellwether."

He gazed at her through sunken eyes from under dark, forbidding brows which called up images of storm clouds looming steadily nearer. "Didn't forget, but making him an officer is your project, not mine. I don't have time to deal with species advancement or endless judgment calls about a non-officer's clearance levels." Without pausing his words, he put out one arm and jabbed a hard fingertip down at the desk. " _I'm_ concerned with finding whoever you talked to on the phone and shutting him down before there are any more attacks. Nothing _more_ , and nothing _less_. Do you understand?"

Even Judy could, on occasion, be badgered into silence, however briefly. Bogo seemed to interpret this to mean that she did understand, for after a brief pause he went on.

"I've done some re-arranging with the schedules, and as of now I am assigning you a partner on the force until this case is closed."

"What?" protested Judy. "Sir, Nick and I have this."

Bogo gave her a 'let's-not-forget-who's-boss-here' look. "That fox isn't an officer yet. So far I'll admit I've gotten good reports about him from the officers he was with the other night, _but!_ ...until he has a badge that didn't come off a sticker sheet, I'm assigning an officer to work with you for everyone's sake. Just work together, keep doing your job, and I'll keep considering him for recommendation." Letting the implied 'and if not' speak for itself, and ignoring the irked look on Judy's face, he then looked over her head completely, towards the back of the room. "You're up, Officer Catano."

Judy sat up straighter at that, her ears preceding the rest of her as she turned to see the cheetah sitting, utterly silent and her expression as neutral as a pond. Without the slightest show of emotion, the cheetah rose.

"Let's go, Hopps. We've got work to do."

Judy followed with her ears lowered, her brow knitted, and her mouth in a firm line.

"I suppose Mr. Wilde is out in the lobby," remarked Officer Catano.

"He is," Judy affirmed, "and by the way, leaving him out of the loop on this is not okay by me, got it?"

Catano raised her paws. "I understand, and for what it's worth I have dispensation from the chief to tell him as much as necessary."

The effort to placate Judy was, unsurprisingly, less than effective. "Oh, so as long as the whole city knows something it's okay for Nick to know it too?" She was going overboard and she knew it. However, after the last couple of days and the suspicion that Nick's input might have allowed them to prevent what had happened, she'd had about as much as one doe could take. She was going to...

She trailed off, realizing that cutting loose now was about the worst call she could make. With Nick's future at stake, she had to do her job no matter how much it reeked – which, had she cared to consider it then, actually described a lot of a police officer's job. She lowered her ears, took a deep breath to steady herself, and then spoke in a much more measure tone. "No offense, but this is my case and his. You may have more experience, but we were well underway on this before you ever got involved. I am not demoting him to sidekick on this, alright?"

Catano took this in calmly, weighing it for a moment. "Actually, since I've got seniority, _I_ can demote him to sidekick," she pointed out. Raising a paw to forestall an outburst, she added, "Just pointing it out. Now listen; I was going to tell you something so we wouldn't get this off on the wrong note..." a smile crept onto her face. "... but since you make such a point of it, I'll wait until Junior Detective's in on it too."

"What?!" yelped Judy impatiently. She wasn't sure what bugged her more: having things turned around like that, or hearing _her_ nickname for Nick come out of Catano's mouth.

"You insisted," the cheetah pointed out, "or you might as well have at any rate. But before we take him into our confidence, I have one question for your ears only." She motioned Judy off to the side where they would be out of the way, then dropped to one knee to get as close to eye level as she could with the bunny.

"Do you trust him?"

The answer was so obvious that Judy thought she must have heard wrongly. "What?"

"Do you trust him? He saved your life, but are you positive that he won't repeat anything confidential, or get careless over a few drinks, or that if he's caught he won't crack if he's tortured? This isn't about him being a fox, Hopps. This is about mistakes. We can't afford _any_ , and there's not a mammal alive who doesn't have some Yachilles' heel. I've even known officers to get careless in the wrong setting." Then she looked at her watch. "Give it a minute before you answer, Hopps – for his sake as well as ours."

Judy stuck out her jaw and spurned the minute. "I trust him," she answered categorically. "He's smart enough to keep quiet, and I'm sure he can stay away from bars." She then checked herself mentally. _Pretty sure, anyway,_ she thought. The truth was, her only real evidence of that last part was that she'd never seen him drink or smelled booze on his breath – and there _was_ that story about the Wheatgrass Whiskey.

The look on Catano's face betrayed a hint of worry – sorrow, even – beneath her severity. "I hope you're right," she said solemnly. "Quite honestly, I make it a rule not to trust anyone too much; not even Chef Bogo."

Judy didn't know what to make of that remark, but it gave her plenty to think about as they went for her friend.

* * *

True to her word, Catano said nothing more until they had found Nick and all three of them had retreated to a private meeting room. Once seated there, the cheetah folded her paws and regarded them both seriously. She spoke to Judy first.

"Hopps, I know you think this arrangement is a punishment, but personally I respect you." At this last she put a paw on her chest as though to emphasize the singularity of the statement. "You've already proven yourself way beyond the length of time you've been on the force. As for you, Wilde, McHowlister had nothing but good things to say about your part in the sting, and even Clawson could only say that you needed to learn some manners." She gave him a significant look as she said this, managing to say without any words at all, 'And as a reminder, my name is not Spots.' "I'll admit I was skeptical about you, but I'll give you a chance. I'm expecting nothing but the best from both of you."

Judy blinked. "Well, thanks," she said, taken slightly aback.

"And because I respect you," the cheetah went on, "I'm going to be up front with you. Chief Bogo may have said I'd be your partner, but in practice I'm going to be more like your bodyguard."

"Bodyguard?" echoed Nick. "I thought those were for VIMs. No offense, Carrots."

Officer Catano regarded him through half-lowered lids. "You're the one with the most experience around criminals, Wilde. Your odd flinches around a police station might as well be a sign on your back, and I remember our last run-in well enough."

"Last run-in?" asked Judy. She remembered Catano mentioning that she and Nick had met before, but somehow the questions of how, where, and when had slipped her mind until that moment. "When was that?"

"A petty crime," Catano answered cooly, "and I didn't have enough on him to make a case of it, or to bother thinking of checking his tax records." Pausing as if she wasn't sure she had meant to admit that Judy had outdone her there, she went on, "Right now that's got nothing to do with this case, though. The point is, you both have experience. So tell me, why would you two need a bodyguard?"

Nick and Judy exchanged the kind of glances they might if they found themselves on a balance beam over a spike pit. "You mean," Nick concluded, looking back at Catano, "because _she's_ the most famous cop in the city..."

"... and anyone linked to the criminal element might spot _him_ working with me..." added Judy.

Offier Catano could see they got the picture. "Congratulations," she told them in a tone which suggested little celebration. "You're VIMs. You especially, Wilde. We know Obearon was connected to Jesse, who saw you working with Hopps. We have to assume Jesse gave him that information, and if Obearon knows or finds out _which_ fox you are, he might try darting _you_ to take her out."

Both of them dropped their ears at this and turned pale under their fur.

"That's why Bogo assigned me, by the way," added Catano without any hint of bragging. "I haven't lost a partner yet, and I don't plan to do it anytime soon. He asked me Saturday just after the bomb scare, but since you were off work, things happened before you knew you had me as backup."

"So, just so we're clear," Nick put in, "Buf- I mean, Bogo wants you to grab me and Carrots, and run at the first sign of trouble?"

The cheetah raised an eyebrow. "He trusts her more than that," she allowed, adding thoughtfully, "though he did mention that he's not happy about you wanting to give him an inaccurate report, Hopps. Basically, though, I'm supposed to do whatever I have to." She reached down and patted something at her hip for emphasis, and while neither of the pair could see it under the table, they both realized she was patting her holstered sidearm. "As for you, Wilde, he's also not too happy about Officer Hopps bringing a civilian with us on the go, but he trusts me and I'm willing to do what it takes."

"I get the feeling he's generally just not happy," Nick ventured.

Catano's eyes flashed. "Chief Bogo's been in the business for more than two decades," she answered tersely. "He's seen what can happen if cops get reckless, and he's assigned me to make sure it doesn't happen on this case. If you don't like listening to me, fine. If you get shot, though, or turned on Judy, it's _not_ going to be because _I_ got caught napping. Got it?"

The prospect of being specifically targeted put Nick rather ill at ease. It had been one thing taking a blueberry when he knew it was a trap and that, for all appearances to the contrary, he and Judy were in full control of the whole situation. The thought of going through the same thing without warning – and worse, of actually becoming a danger – was a whole different issue.

"Got it," he said in answer to Catano's question. Then something else crossed his mind. "By the way, was it you who insisted Carrots not tell me about the threat?"

Catano folded her paws. "Guilty," she admitted, "and to be honest I'd do it again under those circumstances. Part of our policy at the ZPD is to keep quiet about matters unless the information can do some good to the public, and I had yet to see enough danger to justify the risk. Even with your help on the sting, I hadn't had time to draw any conclusions about you." She stopped as if that were all, then spoke again like a builder who decides a nail needs just one more whack. "Besides, you should know better than anyone what happened the last time we spread the news about predators being a potential threat."

Nick did remember. "Yeah, and I'm kind of surprised you'd be so reluctant to think outside the box after that. A pred on the police force? Must have been tough."

"I adapted," Catano answered, unflappable as ever. The truth was, she had even used it to her advantage once or twice. With prey and even preds fearing her, getting confessions had been much easier than otherwise. "And we're adapting now. I could make a strong argument for telling you flat-out you're off the case, or even taking you into protective custody." Pausing the merest moment to watch their eyes widen and their mouths drop just a little in dismay, she added, "I'm not going to do that right now, and I'd rather you not make me do it later. I think you'll be more helpful if we all work on this as partners. I'll fill you in, but I need something from the two of you for the information."

"What's that?" asked Judy.

"First of all, I need to know you, Wilde, will keep a lid on things. If Judy trusts you then so do I, but I have to say it. Second, I need to be sure you two will keep _me_ in the loop as an officer. Third, if I decide things are getting out of hand or out of line, I don't want any arguments. You especially, Wilde. If we're going to make a cop out of you, you'll have to take orders." She looked each of them in the eyes in turn. "Do we have a deal?"

Judy could feel Nick's gaze turn to her, and met it with her own. A silent, almost telepathic missive came her way: 'You up for this?'

Almost imperceptibly, she nodded and turned to the cheetah. "Deal. We're a team, then?"

The corners of Catano's mouth turned upward just a little. "As long as we don't do the paw-stack," she answered. Before either of them could wonder if they had actually just heard her make a wisecrack, she slipped a folder out of a little ledge below the table top and put it down. "Now, I've been looking at the reports on the case thus far to get up to speed. I'm counting on you two to fill me in on the details, but you're investigating Olivia Poisson, owner and CEO of Pwasson's Passion. She has past connections to Doug Ramses, and her company frequently uses _Midnicampum holicithias_ as a kind of herbal ingredient. However, she flatly denies any involvement with the scheme. Anything I'm missing so far?"

Judy frowned at the mention of the skunk. "Just that she's definitely not telling me everything she knows."

"Suspects withhold information. Get used to it," the cheetah replied, glossing over the botanical technicality. "Have you heard back about the warrant?"

The rabbit's expression fell, and she could feel Nick's eyes on her as well as Catano's. "Uh, no," she admitted. "Come to think of it, I haven't."

Catano bit her lip. "The system's slowed down with everything going on, but it shouldn't have taken this long."

Nick felt the need to save his friend some face. "You think the fake bomb might have been meant to throw us off?" he asked. "Get Judy rattled so she'd forget to follow up?"

The cheetah put a paw to her chin thoughtfully. "You've got good instincts, Wilde – or lots of experience," she added as an afterthought. "Though a move like that would be either very smart or very stupid."

Judy was about to ask why, then paused a moment to see if she could figure it out and avoid looking like a newbie. "Because I'd know the package was from her, which would redouble my attention on her, right?"

"Exactly. If it worked, you'd be so preoccupied with the records that you'd forget about other options like a direct inspection. If it didn't work, you'd be after her with a vengeance."

"So, we follow up on the warrant first?" asked Judy.

Catano got up. "That would make the most sense, but I'm not counting on a break there. City Hall is in worse shape than it was even with Bellwether running things, so we can't depend on anything quick from them. Once we do what we can there, we need to reevaluate all the suspects for anything that might give us a clue to... hmmm." She trailed off in thought.

"What is it?" asked Nick.

"A possibility, but we need to look into the warrant first. Then we can start broadening our search."

"Broadening how?" asked Judy.

Catano smiled, though whether she was pleased at the question or enjoying an ego trip, neither of the short sleuths could say. "Obearon is the key factor right now. If we find him, he'll lead us to the others – and until we find them, he won't be able to give them new orders. So if we want to find the _new_ leader..."

"Bellwether!" exclaimed Judy.

"Right. I'll need to get some things we'll want when we question her. Hopps, you know what to do."

Judy was, to be honest, a bit demoralized by the thought of talking with Bellether. However, she nodded assent and headed off to retrieve the appropriat phone number.

Seeing Nick's momentary hesitation, Catano cleared her throat. "You might as well come with me," she suggested.

"Uh, right," Nick agreed warily. Then, as he proceeded after the cheetah, a thought came to him. "Uh, Catano," he asked, "what if the suspects try darting you?"

Catano gave a grim smile. "I've been shot at before. You work at this long enough, you develop a knack for dodging."

It was an impressive claim, but not entirely reassuring. "And if you do get hit?"

This time the cheetah's answer was a little more contemplative. "If that happens, get somewhere I can't reach – _fast."_

* * *

 _Gah!_ thought Xavier, fumbling with a rack of nearly microscopic mouse-sized shin guards. A number of the tiny objects had just fallen off, and would probably take even longer to re-rack than the mouse-sized bicycle helmets had required. _How was I supposed to know I'd need tweezers today?_

At the sporting goods store of which he was manager, Xavier Moonbeamer was not having the best of days. For one thing, he was doing an inventory of the smaller equipment – and while he didn't exactly _mind_ such tasks, the raccoon who usually inventoried those items was really a lot more dexterous than he was. Unfortunately, the raccoon was off due to injuries incurred in the previous day's attack. He was one of the lucky ones; the doctors said he'd be back to work in a couple of weeks.

Xavier, alas, wasn't sure _he'd_ last that long. After almost two hours of trying to do the raccoon's job, he had eye strain from trying to manipulate tiny packages, a headache from trying to tell apart the different sizes of equipment for mammals smaller thank his own paw, and dirt all over his front from a few occasions where he'd had to lie down to arrange the smaller (and lower) displays.

He also had Regis Killrahb's ringback tone stuck in his head. He hadn't known that was possible, but that was before his seemingly interminable efforts to get in touch with the lion's assistant to find out about the concert.

"Come on," he groaned. He was normally a very patient wolf, but things were not going his way at all that particular day.

At long last, the ringback ended.

"Hi. This is Xavier Moonbeamer," he said before the mammal at the other end even had time to speak. He had some regrets that his tone betrayed his frazzled state, but he was too far gone to let that stop him. "I hate to complain, but I've been trying to reach you for ages now."

The spectral bat answered in his usual staccato, Zooropean-accented voice. "Very sorry, Mr. Moonshiner. It's a madhouse this morning, and I usually prefer to work at night, you know."

"I can understand that – and it's Moon _beamer,"_ the wolf corrected, "but is there any word about the concert yet? They've got some kind of backup location planned, right?"

"Everyone's asking that, but I haven't found any word on it. The Chamber of Commerce is having an emergency meeting to sort out details this afternoon."

"Well can you at least tell me if the concert's going to be re-scheduled? My band's been bending over backwards to clear up time for it, and... yes, I understand that, but... no, no I'm not trying to give you a hard time, but we need to know when we're supposed to perform." Xavier hated losing his cool. It wasn't his way.

"There's a meeting to settle that this afternoon," promised LeWing. "In fact I have to make sure I have all of Mr. Killrahb's papers for it, since he's unavailable. I can call you with the results around... four o'clock."

Xavier wearily checked his day planner. _Isabelle and I are meeting with Jerry about then,_ he reflected. "Can you text it?" he asked. "I have another appointment, and I'd hate to... yeah, thanks."

The call concluded, and both mammals hung up in exasperation. "I sure hope this day gets better," Xavier groaned wearily. He would hate to show up grouchy when he and his wife met with Jerry Brisbound for ice cream.

"I hope Mr. Killrahb is better soon," sighed the bat, taking a mouthful of coffee. "I hate this management stuff."

 **So, there you have it, but what is 'it'? Why is Obearon so rattled all of a sudden, and what's going to happen now that Doug is stocking up on arms? Meanwhile, how will this new alliance in the ZPD work out, or the meeting about the concert, or the Moonbeamers' meeting with Jerry (whoever** _ **he**_ **is)? Lastly, what loose end am I deliberately leaving out? Well, you'll just have to wait until next time.**

 **I will say one thing now: remember that shady conversation a few chapters back about keeping an eye on our deductive duo? That was Chief Bogo and Officer Catano. You have been hustled.**

 **Easter Eggs**

 **Ice Age**

 **Stuart Little 2**

 **The Mouse and the Motorcycle**

 **Also, I included the bat and the raccoon on request (from Berserker 88 and dispix94, respectively). I actually had plans to include each of those at later dates (a raccoon in particular will be playing an important part), but I hate to make fans wait if I can get around it. Walter LeWing is of the species known as Spectral Bats, or** _ **Vampyrum spectrum,**_ **in our world. You may know them better by their older name, False Vampire Bats (I was glad to find they had a new name because I think in Zootopia, False Vampire Bat would be a lot like False Indian or False Scotsman). Unlike true vampire bats, which usually feed on the blood of hooved mammals or birds, Spectral Bats feed on all manner of small vertebrates, including other bats. Fans of the** **Silverwing** **books and cartoons may recall this species as the main villains, Goth and Throbb. Naturally, Walter is more civilized and would, at most, consume non-sentient vertebrates. I fancy he has a fondness for frogs, based on his French-based last name.**

 **I took some liberties with LeWing's background, since Zootopia seems to jumble geography a bit anyway (a rhino with an Irish last name, for instance). Spectral Bats are, in the real world, native to South America, not Europe/Zoorope.**

 **As for the raccoon referred to in this chapter... well, he was originally going to be a zebra, but I decided having Xavier struggle to do the work of a far smaller mammal would be more interesting; sort of a reverse of the deleted scene where Judy had to use an elephant-sized computer (I really wish they had kept that in the movie, because it was a lot of fun to watch).**


	21. Twenty-One: Let's Grill a Ewe

Sorry for the long holdup. The delay will be (somewhat) explained at the end, but for now I'll just say I hope you all had a Merry Christmas (and the rest of December too). I worked a little extra to get this chapter ready in time for New Year's.

Proofreading by Hawktooth.

 **Machete: "World's smallest camera."**

 **Juni: "I don't see anything."**

 **Machete: "Ah, but it sees you."**

 _ **Spy Kids**_

Paperwork had, for Nick, always been a hazardous liability. It had also been a major annoyance.

Unfortunately, as Judy faxed off the new warrant application, that latter reason didn't look like it was going anywhere.

"So how long is it going to take to get that warrant re-processed?" asked the fox, spreading his paws and arching his back as though he had gone stiff from waiting.

"Welcome to bureaucracy," came Catano's weary voice as she entered the room with a small bag of equipment. "And the crisis is, I'm sure, not helping things."

Judy glanced at her watch. "Well, you got that gear quickly enough," she observed.

Catano shrugged. "It's a fairly standard batch of equipment, and I'm a cheetah. Fast is what I do best. Now, let's grill a ewe."

Judy watched her open the case and remove some small devices resembling earbuds without any wires, a little device that looked like a smartphone, and a pair of...

"What are these?" asked Judy, picking one up. They looked like shirt buttons, but the backs were more like lapel pins.

Catnap reached up to her own shirt collar, unsheathed a single claw, and snipped off a button. "Cameras," she replied, pocketing the real button and attaching the pin-on in its place. If Judy hadn't seen the switch, she never would have guessed one had taken place. "They transmit to this," and here she tapped the thing that looked like a smartphone, "which transmits to the earpieces."

"Wow, big-league," Nick uttered, leaning in to admire the item. Then he frowned. "But don't they have cameras in the interrogation rooms?"

"Yes," was the reply, "but I want to catch Bellwether's expressions and body language – especially dead-on. That's your job, Judy. You'll be sitting across from her and confront her face to face."

Judy drew in her lips. "I'd rather be in the other room watching on the screen," she demurred.

Catano fixed her with a firm gaze, and if Judy had known well enough to look for it she might have detected an 'I don't like this either but that's just too bad' kind of sympathy. "You're the only one of us who had any kind of connection with Bellwether," she pointed out, "and from what we can gather she would have wanted to have you on her team if she could have convinced you. So, I want you to play the sympathetic notes while I prod her and see if we can make her drop something."

Judy would have much preferred to do the prodding herself; maybe with a gator prod or a rapier. However, Catano did have more experience with these matters, and the safety of the city was more important than her own sense of betrayal. "Right. Good cop, bad cop."

Catano shrugged. "Something like that. I don't think she's got enough conscience to feel bad about trying to murder you, but if you play the part of a wounded friend you might get her to lower her guard."

Judy had to admit that wouldn't be so hard – though not kicking the sheep in the face might be another story. The ewe was basically everything she had ever hated about the world, all bundled up in one fluffy little animal. To make matters worse, she had played Judy like a harp. The friendship had _felt_ real, and to someone new in the city, it was all the more brutal to be hit like that. Between that and how few real friends she had managed to make since leaving Bunnyburrow, even on the force, losing even one in so wretched a way was too painful to describe.

"So while you're playing mind games with her," Nick asked, "where do I fit in?"

Catano slid the screen his way. "You," she explained, "are the secret weapon. This is set for a split screen from Hopps' camera and mine. If you catch anything useful, make a note of it." As he picked up the device, she added, "And no scratches."

Though Nick had expected some role – at Judy's insistence if nothing else – he was still a little surprised at the feeling of actually being part of an interrogation, and an important part at that. "Thanks," he replied.

The cheetah said nothing, but picked up one of the wireless earbuds and passed the other to Judy. "Put it in far enough that she's not likely to hear," she instructed as she did the same. "The volume is low, but if you miss something just act like you hear nothing. Wilde, I need not remind you that this is Hopps' first interrogation. We'll both need to be free to concentrate, so keep comments strictly to anything we should ask about immediately."

Judy slipped in the earbud, which resembled her grandfather's hearing aid, and allowed Catano to remove one of her collar buttons; a rather ticklish maneuver, given their sizes, but one done without injury. Checking to see that the fake button was turned on, she pinned it in place and nodded to Callie. "Let's do this."

* * *

The sheep sat in a large, blank-walled questioning room at a table made of strongest steel and bolted to the floor. The size of the table – which had been constructed with the elephant size range in mind – struck a sharp contrast to the diminutive ex-mayor on her elevated chair. Judy felt similarly dwarfed, and even Catano looked rather small with the table coming up to her chest. Only Bellwether's lawyer, a giraffe, looked the right size for the place.

" _Ex-_ mayor," greeted Officer Catano, casually pacing the room and continually regarding the sheep sideways, as though it were beneath her to so much as look at the prisoner directly. "So glad you could meet us on such short notice."

Dawn Bellwether rolled her eyes. "Oh, spare me the attitude, officer."

 _You're one to talk about attitudes,_ thought Judy bitterly.

The lawyer cleared her throat. "Miss Bellwether, need I remind you that cooperation can only help your case when you appear in court."

"I thought you were on my side," the ewe answered tersely, glaring up. Lockup clearly hadn't treated her well. She looked haggard, and her wool had a somewhat yellower tint to it, though that might have been the lights and not an disuse of wool bleach.

"With a case like yours, I'm on whatever side will get you the least time in prison," the giraffe answered. Then, under her breath, she added, "... not to mention the least time on my tax dollars."

The height difference probably prevented the sheep from actually making out the words, but she scowled anyway. "What do you want?" she asked coldly, focusing on the officers.

"The truth would be nice," Judy challenged, doing her best to keep in mind the friendly face Bellwether had put on for her and how much of a lie it had been.

"And just what truth would that be?" asked Bellwether, putting on a masquerade of innocence. It was obvious to Judy – and to Nick as he looked on – that this bald-faced hypocrisy was meant to anger Judy and trip her up.

Judy mustered all her self-control and forced herself to stay calm. She would not, under any circumstances, give Bellwether the pleasure of seeing her crack, let alone of besting her in this battle of wills and wits. On the other hand, she was supposed to be acting like a wounded and emotional easy target, which meant that _pretending_ to be upset by the flippant remark would be to her advantage. She softened her expression. "Who told you to try to kill me?" she asked.

Catano, who had moved out of the sheep's immediate line of sight, flashed Judy an intrigued look – not flat-out approving, but definitely interested in her technique. Bellwether, meanwhile, leaned back a little and blinked in surprise, lowering her ears. Her face scrunched, and her mouth turned down at the corners. "What are you talking about?" she asked, and Nick strongly suspected that she really did mean it.

"Good job, Carrots," he mouthed, only holding his voice in check to preserve Judy's concentration.

Catano picked up the proverbial ball. "We have reason to believe you had a co-conspirator in your recent darting scheme," she said smoothly, gliding back into Judy's immediate vicinity. "A partner, or a second-in-command, perhaps? Or were you working on someone else's orders?"

It was amazing just how fearsome an angry sheep could look. In no more than a second, her eyelids scrunched towards one another and her teeth clamped shut. Her delicate hooves doubled up into fists which actually managed to look intimidating. "No one," she answered icily through her clenched jaws, "told me what to do, and I never _had_ a second in command. Everyone had their jobs to do."

Judy guessed that Catano was playing on Bellwether's ego with the suggestion of a superior, and decided to run with it. "Well, someone seems to be stealing your thunder," she answered, "because we arrested Jesse last week, and he seemed to be taking his orders from some guy called 'Obearon.' Sound familiar?"

Bellwether paused, and for the briefest instant an odd look crossed her face, as if Judy had brought something up that was just at the edge of her memory. Then her frown returned. "Yeah, you can find him at the library," she said, folding her arms defiantly. "He's a character in a play."

"She's bluffing," Nick remarked.

Catano kept circling until she was in Judy's line of sight and out of Bellwether's, the latter refusing to turn her head in an effort to avoid giving over any modicum of control. Then the cheetah scowled, hoping Nick would catch the implied, 'Thank you, Captain Obvious.' "I remember. A play by William Shakesbear. Know any fans?"

This time Bellwether's face registered no reaction, but she seethed on the inside. "I was a little busy running the city under that phony, Lionfart. I didn't have much time to visit theaters."

Off in his own little room, Nick thought he caught something in Bellwether's voice during that last remark. It wasn't worth mentioning out loud, but he jotted down the sentence just in case it might be important.

Judy, meanwhile, folded her arms. "You know, I've been thinking about that," she ventured. "I was pretty mad at Lionheart over the cover-up, but I'll take him as a friend over you any day."

That remark wasn't lost on either of her fellow interrogators, and it stoked Bellwether's blood to a boil. "Are you crazy?" she demanded. "Wake up, Judy. He-"

" _Officer Hopps_ to you," Judy fired back. She wanted to lean forward and bring her glaring face as close to the sheep's as possible, but she restrained herself and leaned back in her chair instead, folding her arms and glowering. "Now, you were saying?"

The ewe sat back in her chair, equally stony, but she had taken the bait.. " _Judy,_ he used you for a political poster girl. Don't you get that? You were just a smiling face to put on his Mammal Inclusion Initiative."

Catano decided to step in at this point. "Hypocrisy does not become you, Bellwether. You would have used that same smiling face on your Predator Control Initiative, literally over her dead body." Then, as if in afterthought, she raised a paw to her chin and added, "Of course, now that the whole city knows about that plan, your replacement will have to come up with something more cunning – but then, he has already proven himself a quite _capable_ opponent in that regard." There was a slight emphasis on the word 'capable,' evidently meant to imply that Bellwether's initial scheme had been incompetent.

Quite naturally, Bellwether was outraged. She raised herself up and smacked her hands with simultaneous _clacks_ upon the table top. "There's no way-!"

She stopped. Both officers were sure if she had been just a fraction more careless, she would have blurted out the name they'd been waiting for and given them the key to the case. Alas, it was not to be that day. She stopped, took a few deep breaths to steady herself, and shook her head. "I'm done talking," she announced firmly, settling back down.

"But-" Judy protested.

"I'm done talking!" snapped the sheep. "I know my rights, and I have the right to remain silent."

Regrettably, she was right. The interview was over, and the officers retreated to speak with Nick.

Neither of the cops said anything until they were alone with Nick.

"Well," said Judy, "I'm just going to get this off my chest and say I wanted to slug her."

Catano raised an eyebrow, but made no comment. "You didn't do half bad playing your part," she allowed. She turned to Nick. "Any insights you kept to yourself?"

Nick looked at her guardedly, and a little glibly. "Ma'am, I would never presume to advise a detective like you on your case."

She frowned. "You've been reading Sherlock Bones," she remarked without enthusiasm. "Except he never applied for a job with the official police, so if you have something to say I suggest you start saying it."

Nick coughed, taking the point quite clearly. "Well, all of us know already that she was bluffing about having no clue who might be behind this. She didn't give us much else to go on, but the guy's probably a fan of classic theater if he picked a name like Obearon. So, since Smellwether mentioned 'not having much time to go to the theater,' I'm thinking our man could be an actor."

Catano raised an eyebrow at the word 'Smellwether,' but Nick's experienced eye caught a tug at the corner of her mouth as she hid a smile.

"That makes sense," came Judy's eager answer. As grim as things were at this point, the very fact that she could _do_ something had lifted her spirits - and the wisecrack from Nick was helpful too. "So if we look into her history and find any ties to someone in that line of work, we might have a lead on Obearon."

"It's worth a try," Catano admitted. With more interest, she added, "though I thought you had your sights on Miss Poisson? That's what I read in the case reports, anyway."

"We can still pursue the warrant," Judy replied, "but more insight into her past can only help when we go to follow it up."

The cheetah looked approving at this. "Good thinking," she admitted. The question had been a kind of decoy, meant to test Judy's savvy. Impressive as the bunny's victory before had been, it never paid to work with one-hit wonders.

* * *

As the corrections officer led Bellwether back to her cell, the diminutive ex-mayor pondered the news that someone else had taken over her plot. On the one hoof, she was more than a little miffed about being supplanted as leader. The whole scheme had been _her_ brainchild, and most of the organizing had been _her_ work.

On the other hoof, if whoever was behind it was making things difficult for the duo who had blown her cover, she could certainly live with _that_. That was a big part of the reason why she had lied about having no idea who 'Obearon' was. If she was right, then assuming the script played out as planned she might never have to see the inside of an actual prison.

 _I just hope 'Obearon' doesn't expect a huge thank-you,_ she thought.

 **And on with the intrigue. So, now we're on a new track to Obearon – but is it the** _ **right**_ **track? To one side they have a sheep who knows more than she's telling, and to the other they have someone running interference for Olivia at the courthouse. And, of course, whichever track they take they're running behind the bad guys. Will they catch the perps, and will Nick and Judy convince Catano that Nick is worth keeping around?**

 **I went out on a bit more of a limb than I usually prefer with the interrogation. Normally, police would not bother with any kind of body cams – let alone hidden ones – while questioning a perp, since security cameras and microphones pretty much come standard in those rooms. However, it suited the purposes of this scene since face-on shots would work best for what the officers wanted, and a department which does undercover work like the ZPD would probably have something like the cameras I described here (super-small cameras, while expensive, do exist and could probably be produced more easily in a world with sentient mice). I also decided to look into laws pertaining to recording, and unsurprisingly, since recording is a given where suspects in lockup are concerned, consent to be recorded is a non-issue there. On a more practical level, in New York state recordings taken of another person without their knowledge can only be used legally if the one recording also records themselves – say, a conversation. This does not apply if the recordings are to be used as evidence of abuse or something of that order; in that case, anything goes.**

 **The reference to gator prods is, of course, a rough equivalent to cattle prods in this world. Again, bit of a stretch, but I dare say some weapon of the kind would exist for large reptiles in Zootopia. And no, not saying you should try it – unless you somehow end up holding a cattle prod while a gator is trying to kill you anyway. Rapiers, as some of you may know, are swords with long, thin, straight blades such as you would see in a** _ **Three Musketeers**_ **movie. They are made more for stabbing than slashing (as opposed to, say, a broadsword), so they would be pretty good for disgruntled prodding. If you get the chance, _Man at Arms Reforged_ on YouTube has some great videos about them (I particularly like the "needle" from Game of Thrones; too bad I can't say the same for the series it came from).**

 **The note about wool bleach is a nod to one of the Zootopia books (I forget the title) in which Smellwether was quoted as saying that the bleach fumes in her office kept her wool extra-white. I think the book took certain liberties with the movie, such as changing Nick and Judy's first assignment together as officers, but it occurred to me that I never saw a sheep that was actually pure white. So I think that Bellwether does use wool bleach (and contacts, unless some mutation explains why she is the only sheep in the movie with round pupils).**

 **I do have some bad news. First off, my work site and schedule have changed for the winter, making it hard to say how much time I can put into writing on the go. That and the extension of my Christmas fic, 'Christmas in Bunnyburrow 2,' may slow me down a bit. Second, I recently learned that one of the top Zootopia groups on Facebook does not allow the sharing of information about real-world police practices because such info is somehow 'irrelevant' to fans of a police movie, and/or it differs from country to country (because somehow my explaining real police work as it's done in America is intolerant to people in Thailand or something). To anyone who found my posts on that group interesting, my apologies.**

 **To end with good news, I recently finished "A Study in Gold" by WANMWAD. A can't-miss for fans of Sherlock Holmes and Zootopia alike, the story is complex, well-written and researched, and most of all absolutely gripping with a tangled web of clues and crime. I absolutely recommend it. Also, as some of you know, I let myself be talked into publishing a sequel to my 2017 Christmas fic. 'Christmas in Bunnyburrow 2: Santa Clawed' promises to be more complex than its predecessor, and since it's not under a deadline I cannot say when it will be finished. However, I thank those who have encouraged me to keep working on it, and will do my best to divide my time judiciously between it and this story.**

 **Easter Egg**

 **Which** **Sherlock Holmes** **mystery inspired Nick's wisecrack about presuming to advise Catano?**

 **My thanks again. Keep those Follows, Faves, and Reviews coming!**


	22. Twenty-Two: A Fly in the Ointment

Chapter proofread by JrRangerScout and Hawktooth.

 **Layla: "What's embarrassing him in front of everyone going to prove? This is so not fair."**

 **Will: "If life were to suddenly get** _ **fair,**_ **I doubt it would happen in high school."**

 _ **Sky High**_

About an hour later, Ben glanced around anxiously amid the usual activity in the ZPD lobby, such as it was at that hour. His conscience pricked him about his secret, and turned friendly waves from passers-by into something seemingly more accusing than an angry glare. Anxiety from paranoia spiked his body temperature, and it was sheer agony trying not to pant and give himself away.

 _I should get rid of the box,_ he thought. _I can get more tomorrow._ He started to bend down for it, then stopped as he realized just how reckless such a move would be. _No! If the chief sees me carrying it, he'll-_

"Clawhauser."

"Ah! It wasn't me! I didn't do it! I was-!" He stopped, realizing decidedly too late what a fool he was being. Already he could feel the suspicion in Chief Bogo's eyes, burning into his head from behind and a little to the left like two oil drills searching for a Confession Gusher. The chief had come from the direction of the bull pen, and until just then the large pillar at Ben's back had been between them.

After a moment, Bogo seemed to shut off the drills. "I wanted to get the..." Then he trailed off... and sniffed. "Clawhauser," he asked, starting to circle around where he could confront the cheetah directly, "what do I smell?"

The cheetah was a slow mover, but he could think fast in a pinch. "Doh!" he cried, 'accidentally' knocking a Gazelle figure into the space behind his desk. "Just a sec, Chief! Gotta make sure she's okay!"

"Clawhauser..."

Ben ducked down and, making a pretense of searching for the figure far longer than it took, dug out a bottle of mouth spray and gave himself a dose. Hoping that would cover the smell, he came back up with the figure in paw. "Sorry about that, Chief."

Bogo studied him doubtfully, then sighed as if in fatigue. "Clawhauser, look at your uniform."

The cheetah looked down, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Same bulging stomach, same blue uniform, same donut crumbs...

 _Aw, fudge._ Suddenly the chocolatey treat in his stomach felt more like a mud pie; the kind made with actual mud, from the ground.

As if he hadn't felt lousy enough, the next words from the chief were the final blow.

"I didn't think you could do it."

* * *

Tucked away in a cubicle in the office part of the ZPD, Judy and Catano were combing the precincts's database and every online news archive they could find that would have any intelligence on Zootopia's political and economic history. To say it was a lot of work would have been like calling the Library of Cowexandria a book collection. Although Nick, by his own admission, wasn't cleared to browse the precinct's archives or even use the secured wi-fi network, Catano had agreed to let him borrow a company tablet and peruse news stories through the guest network. The strategy was simple, but effective enough in theory: follow the money, and follow the power.

Judy did her best to look on the upside: they had plenty of elbow room. The cubicle was actually made for elephants, but Catano managed to use the main terminal by raising the seat all the way and reaching her arms out. It was more like playing a pipe organ than a computer, and although Nick was tempted to make a wisecrack about ominous music, he noted out of the corner of his eye that no groan of complaint escaped her throat. Neither did a twitch of displeasure register in her ears or the tips of her whiskers, visible to either side of her head like the sun's corona during an eclipse.

 _She's got as much of a sense of humor as old Horn-Head,_ he mused, _but she doesn't rile as easily._ Nick had often tested other mammals' comfort zones, as he had done early on with Judy. It was one area where he could almost always count on winning, but Catano seemed to mingle Judy-like tenacity with an unflappable demeanor easily equal to his own. Maybe working with her wouldn't be so bad after all.

"I have something here," the cheetah announced. "Not much to go on, but possibly a sign that we're on track."

"What is it?" asked Nick, coming over to have a look. He and Judy climbed up the back of the cheetah's chair and peered over her shoulders.

She leaned over the keyboard and put a claw to the screen. "Here. Bellwether was the running mate to Leodore Lionheart, so I dug up a list of Lionheart's campaign donors. In the two elections before this last one, his campaign received sizable contributions from..."

"Pwasson's Passion!" exclaimed Judy, her eyes fairly popping out of her head.

"And look there!" added Nick, pointing. "Our fair lady also made some tidy private donations."

Judy scrunched her face. " _That's_ strange. She sure didn't seem to think much of the Mammal Inclusion Initiative."

Catano turned to her, curious. "Yes, I noticed that in the notes from your interview. Did you detect anything about her remarks that wouldn't be in your notes?"

Judy thought back to the exchange, trying to remember as much as she could about the skunk's intonation and body language. At last, she shook her head. "No. She just asked me point-blank if I had gotten through the Academy on my own merits, or if I was just there to fill the initiative's quota." She scowled at the mere memory of it.

Rubbing her chin, Catano returned her attention to the screen. "That's rather interesting, given that skunks have been one of the top groups to benefit from the initiative." One of the initiative's particulars was that it provided equipment and other assistance under the heading of 'reasonable accomodation' for mammals seeking civil service or other such positions. Though in Judy's case this had mainly been in the form of a small Kevlar vest and other size-appropriate gear, mammals utilizing that clause could be reimbursed for a wide range of products and services. Skunks, in particular, could be eligible for deodorant or even surgery to have their musk glands removed, if they so chose. The former was a pretty trivial cost, but the latter was a boon for the skunks; a rather expensive one, at that.

"So, what, she's having regrets about the outcome of her vote?" asked Nick in an ironic tone. "Maybe worried about her spot as the richest skunk in the city?"

Catano ignored the humor. "That would explain the fact that she didn't sponsor this last campaign, but we need to concentrate on what's in front of us." She opened another tab and ran a search of news archives, cross-referencing Olivia Poisson and Dawn Bellwether's names. After a short load time, the search turned up an article topped by a photograph.

"That's Poisson!" exclaimed Judy, pointing to the picture. "And Bellwether!"

"What's it say?" asked Nick.

Catano scrolled down, and though she muttered aloud as she skimmed the article, the two less experienced sleuths could read it just fine for themselves. During Lionheart's first bid for mayor, Dawn Bellwether had courted numerous potential sponsors on his behalf in an event held at the city's top classical playhouse. "Well, that's interesting. Look at the plays they saw that night."

Nick was no English Lit major, but even if the plays hadn't been obvious, Catano's notice of them couldn't have been more transparent. "I'll take William Shakesbear for $500," he chimed.

Judy nodded, smiling. "So, it looks as if Smellwether found time in her busy schedule for going to the theater after all."

Catano clicked her tongue wearily. "Are we going to listen to that nickname for the rest of this case?"

Nick just grinned. "We're making progress. Where's your sense of humor?"

The cheetah looked at him through half-lowered lids. "Give it ten years on this job, Wilde. If you get that far, some beginner will put the same question to you."

Judy glanced at the cheetah, wondering if she was trying to discourage Nick from his career change or just being her cyncial self. "Should I mention this to the judge concerning the warrant application?"

Catano hummed to herself for a moment before answering. "Not yet. It's proof enough that the two of them had some past dealings, but there's nothing criminal about having talked to a criminal. Otherwise you'd have to arrest yourself too." Before Judy could respond to this very obvious point, the cheetah went on, "I suggest you get in touch with Poisson again, but-"

" _Hopps and company, report to Bogo,"_ came a call over the PA system.

Catano glanced at the intercom, then at the pint-sized pair. Her gaze briefly flicked over to Nick as if to satisfy herself that he was still in the room.

Nick raised his paw pads helplessly. "Oh sure, look at the fox."

"I looked at both of you," Catano answered coolly. "Besides, you strike me as the type who wants females looking at him."

Nick's eyebrows flatlined in annoyance. He would have gotten a lot more enjoyment out of Catano making a wisecrack if it had been at someone else's expense.

The cheetah rose and waved a paw. "Come on. It must be important."

* * *

About three minutes later, the two officers were in Chief Bogo's office. To their surprise, Bogo allowed the fox to enter. _He's probably only letting Nick in because he knows it'll reach him anyway,_ thought Judy skeptically.

Bogo seemed to confirm this by talking as if Nick wasn't present.

"Hopps, I want you for a special assignment – one where your connection with the fox-"

"Wilde," Judy supplied.

Bogo scowled warningly, while Catano pricked her ears up a little straighter and lifted one eyebrow in mild signs of surprise that Judy had talked back to the chief like that. The cheetah honestly wasn't sure whether to be shocked or impressed. Nick, meanwhile, smirked for an instant but quicly hid it lest Bogo take notice.

"Your connection with Wilde might prove useful," Bogo amended in his usual surly manner, prompting Catano to lift both her eyebrows. "A report just came in of suspicious activity in an abandoned house in Hogswald Heights."

Judy's ears pricked up, and Nick's dropped down. The bunny had heard Hogswald Heights mentioned in passing a number of times around the precinct, and from what she gathered the community – if one could call it that – was a definite 'problem neighborhood' with multiple gangs and not infrequent cases of violent or drug-related crime. As for Nick... well, he'd run a few errands there; even brokered some deals in the neighborhood. It was _not_ his idea of a fun place to be. "What kind of activity are we talking?"

Bogo's voice was grave. "Based on the call, we believe it's a Night Howler lab."

All six listening ears stiffened at that, though Nick and Catano both looked unsurprised. Judy's eyes widened, and her nose gave an involuntary twitch.

"With the threat of another attack hanging over us, we can't risk a full raid. Hopps, I want you to go in and check things out quietly for a start just as soon as we can get clearance to enter."

Judy's stomach suddenly felt a good deal heavier.

"Um, 'scuse me," Nick put in, raising a paw. "You got an address on that house?"

Bogo regarded him skeptically. "Yes, why?"

Nick was already punching a number into his phone. "I've got a friend at Tusk-co. About three years ago, they got stuck with the mortgages on all the empty houses in that neighborhood in a White Alligator deal with another bank, so..." He stopped and looked expectantly up for the address.

"Foxes," uttered Bogo. However, he handed the clipboard to Catano (it would have been on the big side for Nick), who held it where the fox could see.

"Hey, Murray," Nick greeted. "Got a favor to ask. I'm here with the police and... no; no I'm not under arrest."

Bogo smirked. Catano looked amused. Even Judy couldn't help smiling a little.

"Yeah, they noticed some suspicious activity in one of your empty houses... sure, I'll put them on the line." He tapped the screen and held up the phone. "Go ahead, Murray."

The call was done in under a minute, and the ZPD had the go-ahead to go in and look around. It was all Judy could do not to give Nick a high-five.

"You can thank me later," Nick smiled, pocketing the phone.

Bogo huffed through his flared nostrils. "Thank you," he uttered as if to get it over with. Then, that unpleasant bit of business over with, he turned back to the officers. "Take action only if there is an immediate threat. If at all possible, we don't want whoever's in there to know we've been there. Understood?"

"Yes sir," Judy affirmed.

Nick cleared his throat, drawing an annoyed look from the buffalo. "Wilde, you will provide whatever assistance and intelligence you can on the matter..." he paused as if daring Nick to make a wisecrack, but then continued, "and heed every order you are given _to the letter_. Am I clear?"

Nick smiled and snapped off a salute. "Like a window, sir."

The joke obviously fell on humorless ears. "Dismissed."

Catano led the way out of the office, making for the armory. "I'll want an extra sidearm in that neighborhood," she said in a quick, unasked-for explanation. "Hopps, you'll have to make do with a taser. We have those in your size."

"How can you have tasers for her to use, but not guns?" asked Nick, fairly running to keep up with Catano's long and rapid strides. He had, as a rule, stayed out of violent crime, but he knew well enough that tasers were like baby toys, especially when such a significant percentage of the population could literally crush you underfoot.

"They're not exactly plutonium," quipped Catano, "and there's a much bigger market for them among rabbits. I'm told that in Bunny Burrow you can buy them in any corner drug store."

Judy refrained from mentioning that they were more commonly offered in gas stations – and that they were kept behind the counter next to the tobacco products.

 _I just hope none of the ones here have pictures of foxes on them,_ she thought.

 **Oy! We were just getting somewhere with a possible clue to Obearon, and now this! What awaits the trio in Hogswald Heights, and what does the link between Bellwether and Poisson mean? Well, I hate to leave you hanging (no, seriously, I wanted to make this longer), but you'll just have to wait and see, dog-gone it.**

 **My thanks to the Guest reviewer. I can't say how just yet, but this chapter too will deepen the mystery in some rather significant ways, though I suspect no one will know how until a second read-through. Wma-ha-ha-haa.**

 **On some decidedly less funny business, this is the last chapter to be proofread by JrRangerScout. Work and education will henceforth be taking up more of his time, so he is getting an honorable farewell.**

 **Tusk-co, for those not in the know, is a refrence to a bank franchise called Trustco. All other resemblances or dissimilarities are purely accidental. Hogswald Heights derives from Oswald Heights, a similar neighborhood referred to on occasion in the radio series** _ **Adventures in Odyssey,**_ **which I strongly recommend looking up if you get the chance. It is available for online listening if you can't find the series broadcasting in your area. Both of these are little-known enough that I thought it unfair to list them among the...**

 **Easter Eggs**

 **A Zootopia Deleted Scene**

 **Popular Game Shows (bonus points if you remember the number one rule)**

 **The play that was showing when Poisson met with Bellwether**

 **Back to the Future**

 **The reference to White Alligators is a play on the old White Elephant gift. In ancient times, leaders would give someone they did not like the gift of a sacred white elephant, which was expensive to take care of and could not be put to work to earn its keep because it was sacred. Since this would be slavery in Zootopia, I substituted an alligator, as white alligators are a big deal in zoos but tend to be more prone to skin problems. My knowledge of banking practices is limited, but I do know that debts and mortgages are sometimes bought or transferred from one holder to another. Implicitly, Tuskco somehow got stuck with a raw deal.**

 **Thanks again for all the comments. According to the stats on here, this fic is actually getting the most feedback per chapter (on average) of any story I've ever put on this site! Thanks a million, and keep 'em coming!**


	23. Twenty-Three: All House, No Party

My apologies for taking so long (over a month, in fact). JrRangerScout was a hard proofreader to replace, but I did find someone. Say hello to chapter 23, proofed by Hawktooth and Warrior27.

On another note, I got to post this on the exact anniversary of Zootopia's debut. Happy Zootopia Day!

 **"Not one single thing's gone right today, and now _The Amazing Spider-Man_ is reduced to _sneaking around - for his shoes!"_**

 **Spider-Man, _Spectacular Spider-Man_ Episode 1**

Judy made her way down the street, glancing at a slip of paper in her paw as she did so as if looking for an address. Her eyes passed over crooked mailboxes, boarded-up windows, peeling paint; pretty much everything one would expect to see in some post-apocalyptic movie. The houses were every bit as inauspicious as one would expect to find in a place with such an unpleasant reputation. _I can't believe anyone would_ live _here,_ she thought. Then she wondered how many did so because they had no other place to go, and how many lived there to prey on the former category.

Nick came from the opposite direction, wearing a set of earbuds like what Judy and Catano had worn before. His shirt also sported one of the 'buttonhole cameras' as he had taken to thinking of them.

Catano sat in a van some distance away, monitoring their progress. A concealed pistol sat in her lap with a rifle close by, ready to use if any mammal should pose a threat to Nick. She would have preferred to watch Judy's back too, but the lay of the land didn't give her a discreet spot with direct sight on both of them. Thus, though the fox annoyed her, his lack of a badge made him top priority.

Judy briefly glanced at the house to which they had been directed, then concentrated on her ears for a moment. Hearing wasn't the only advantage they offered; they also made great sensors of wind direction.

 _Everything's going well so far,_ she thought. In her disguise, it would have taken either face-recognition software or her parents to recognize her. She had daubed several parts of her fur with black makeup to alter her appearance, and she walked with a slight limp that made her look considerably feebler than she was. Sporting a pair of glasses and a squint as if the prescription were out of date, she drummed her 'good' foot in a show of frustration.

Her path took her around a corner, where she drew a glance from Nick as if he were surprised to see a rabbit in that part of the city. She was just coming up to a row of bushes when the scrap of paper flew from her grasp.

"Oh!" she cried, grabbing for it. It fluttered away from her fingertips like a butterfly, then flew into the nearby bushes just as planned with her in hot pursuit. In a moment, her cottonball tail had vanished in the untrimmed shrubbery.

Nick sent a text to Catano. _So far, so good. :)_

Catano's voice came through his earbuds in the weary, irritated tone which had come to be her norm when addressing Nick. "Was the smiley really necessary?"

The fox considered replying, _It was; 100%,_ but the seriousness of what Judy was presently doing swayed his mind the other way. Instead, he settled for a simple _Yep_ and spared a second to enjoy the barely audible groan from Catano. Based on his lengthy experience getting on mammals' nerves, he guessed that she had tried to cage it in by clamping her teeth.

Inside the bushes, Judy recovered the paper and rolled up her pant leg briefly to pull out a pawful of pens. They had been Nick's idea, strategically inserted just behind her knee to make a realistically uncomfortable limp. Maneuvering further in, she deposited them and her glasses in a small pile and proceeded to crawl resolutely towards the house. This time, she took care to jostle the bushes as little as possible.

Lowering her head to get a clear view while at the same time making herself less visible, she examined the house from behind. According to the phone call, the mammal – an elderly panda who had lived nearby since before the neighborhood had gone downhill and refused to move out on principle – had seen mammals going into and out of this untenanted home on occasion quite often in the past. She had not thought anything of it, but on a return from a recent trip to the doctor's she had seen someone just coming out of the house dash away as if afraid to be spotted. Whoever it was had dropped something uncannily like the blue spheres which citizens were being told to look out for.

Alas, Judy saw no blue spheres and no other clues to speak of. The windows had been blacked out with paint and in some cases boarded over, and there was no sign of life anywhere.

Slipping off her own mini-camera, Judy held it to give Catano a look at the house. With her other paw, she laboriously texted, _Looks clear to me._

Agonizing seconds passed before Catano answered. "Same here, but be careful- wait, is that a camera?"

Judy had seen the object in question, and put down the mini-cam to text a reply. _No, just a birdhouse shaped like a camera. I've seen them before._ Her younger brother Jordy had a peculiar hobby of making such birdhouses and strategically placing them to mess with mammals' heads. It had been funny for a while, but he'd flown too close to the sun when he put one outside their parents' bedroom window. After the punishment that netted him, Judy had _almost_ felt sorry for him.

"Alright. That loose plywood over the basement window looks like your best chance to get in."

Judy had to hand it to Catano; she hadn't spotted that entrance in person, and Catano was looking at it on her iPhone screen. The cheetah might be cranky, but she knew her stuff.

"Wilde, proceed to the front."

It drove Judy nearly crazy waiting until the signal was given. It was a risky move for Nick, but if he knocked on the front door, anyone inside would have their attention drawn away from the back. Meanwhile, he would hopefully know anyone inside well enough to talk his way around them - or at least be fast enough to get away. She busied herself by stowing her phone and re-attaching her camera.

"Go," came the command from Catano.

Judy shot across the lawn like a rocket, slipping in among some overturned trash cans. She glanced all around. There was still no sign that she had been observed.

"Hopps," Catano relayed, "Wilde says it looks like no one's home. Be careful anyway."

Judy texted back in the affirmative, then darted over to the loose panel and ducked into its cover.

Rather than slip in right away, the bunny officer crouched there, texting an update and then staring into the inky depths of the basement to let her eyes adjust. Nick had warned her that it wasn't unusual for houses in this neighborhood to have decoy entrances, nail boards, and so on to deter or damage would-be intruders.

A search revealed, by way of security, only a nail board down below and an otherwise empty space more the size of a closet than a proper room. Carefully thrusting herself out past the board, she hit the floor on bent legs and stuck a silent landing. Scanning around, she failed to detect anything of particular interest. No laboratory equipment of any kind, and not even a whiff of Night Howlers. There was, however, a scent of musk and sweat and... _Ugh._ She didn't know what the last thing was, but it smelled pret-ty bad in her opinion.

Her last text had advised Callie to expect no further updates for the time being, as the lit screen would throw off her night vision – such as it was. _Wish we could have sent Nick in,_ she mused, though she vowed never to voice that thought out loud. Assuming she got through this unscathed, he would probably pepper her with jokes and snickers about 'the poor blind bunny wandering in the dark.' She crept towards the door, put an ear to it, and convinced herself that there were no sounds coming from the other side or lights leaking around the edges. Jumping up to turn the doorknob and giving a light push, she slipped back to the shelter of the wall and eased it silently open.

The main basement was darker still, and she considered using the flashlight on her phone. However, if someone came down while she was poking around, she would want to be able to disappear as quickly and fluidly as possible. Dousing the light and forcing her eyes to adjust to a basement strange to her and known to her foes would both slow her down, so she chose to endure a brief nuisance and be ready in a pinch. Once she had satisfied herself that she was secure, she could use the light and take some pictures as evidence.

As her pupils dilated still more, she realized that the room in which she now found herself contained a number of small gas tanks. She stifled a gasp, remembering that the gun used by Bellwether had been fueled with pressurized gas.

 _I've got to find more,_ she thought.

Working her way around the basement, she discovered the stairs... and a sight that made her stop.

There was a light – very faint but definitely there – coming from under the door at the top. Steeling her nerves and moving with the wariness for which her species was perhaps best known, she eased her way up the stairs and gently opened the door.

For an empty house, it was a bigger mess than all her brothers' rooms put together. Strange structures were scattered around, resembling blanket forts made out of scrap wood, tarps, cinder blocks, and just about any other material one might find in a scrap pile or junk yard. Here and there were strange bottles made of metal and painted black. Everywhere there were small spatters of many colors, with blue and orange being the most prevalent and red being the only one absent. Through it all, the smell at which she had wrinkled her nose before grew stronger... and suddenly very familiar. It was an atrocious smell of strong vegetable extracts – too strong for even a rabbit's liking – which called her back to her training at the academy.

"Oh, SWEET CHEESE AND CRACKERS!" she shouted, no longer caring whether anyone heard or not.

"Hopps, keep it down!" ordered Catano through her earbud.

Judy, now free to speak, skipped sending a text. "False alarm, Catano," she reported, her voice carrying through a wireless mic on her person. "This isn't a Night Howler Lab. Some kids turned this place into a paintball course!"

Nick made a point to sit in the far corner of the cruiser from Judy, despite the barrier isolating the back seat, as they rode home. The doe practically had smoke coming out of her ears, especially after Nick had observed that in that neighborhood, the kids' antics rated right next to jaywalking. Trying to make an arrest would just be the punchline to a bad joke.

* * *

In another part of town, a vixen sat staring at her computer screen as it played a music video for the hundred-fifty-first time that day. The video showed a pack of canids playing instruments under pouring rain while a system of pyrotechnic jets threw fingers of fire into the air behind them. The canines all wore black shirts – sleeveless or short-sleeved – and the water drenched their fur and made their forms glisten in the firelight.

The video had, actually, been a masterpiece of budgeted special effects. The rain came from a collection of sprinklers borrowed from neighbors and cropped out of the shots. The instruments were in fact dummies except for the drum set. To create the official video for their hit song, _Hero,_ Taelia had worked with Xavier, Isabelle, and Ellen to pull off the special effects, recorded the visual part, and spliced in a studio recording of the band later.

Alas, Taelia was not watching the video just for fun. Slowing it down at one point, she studied the flames and then clicked to another window, where representations of the flames stood out against a black backdrop.

"Come on," she murmured to herself after a zoom-in proved that the flames were still not up to specs. This was the highest-def recording they had; she _had_ to be able to coax some better quality out of it than that.

The stage on which they would perform – whenever and wherever that was to be – would almost certainly not have sprinklers for anything but fire prevention. Even if it had ornamental ones, playing their electrical instruments in a downpour would be insane on several levels. Since the concert was to be indoors, actual pyrotechnics were also out.

The good news – at least for the fire part – was that the plan was to have a large screen at the back of the stage, whereupon visual effects might be supplied. The bad news was that Taelia had to find some way to make the recordings of the band's pyrotechnics fit a screen that large without losing their sharpness. By fiddling around with filters and settings, she had managed to improve the quality a good deal. However, there was a limit to how much any image could be refined by that method, and if she hadn't reached the limit yet she was definitely pushing it and herself. That and staring at the screen for so long was starting to give her a headache, multiplied over again by the fact that she had no clue of her deadline.

 _I just wish we knew when the concert was supposed to be rescheduled for!_ she thought impatiently. Her brother had been planning to bring his family to come see her perform. Her parents were hoping to come if they could (it was doubtful, but she had promised to save tickets for them). Alas, that was all based on the concert's pre-set date. According to the latest from Xavier, the organizers were having a meeting right about that time to decide the matter... and the outlook wasn't promising.

Massaging her forehead with the thumb and two foremost fingers of one paw, she leaned back and pulled away from her monitor. _I need a break,_ she thought.

Her gaze fell on the phone at her desk, and she took in a deep breath and let it out. _I wonder what Nick's up to,_ she thought. If she couldn't know what was going on with the concert plans, at least she could distract herself with something passably useful. She'd always found that a quick talk brightened her day – and usually the other mammal's day too. He might even know something about the business with that 'Obearon' creep the news had been on about since the attack.

She picked up the phone and sent off a message.

* * *

In the cruiser, Catano's ears pricked at the sound of a generic phone chime. "Nick, is that you?"

"Yeah, hold up a sec." He fished out the device. "Oh, it's from Taelia," he reported. His voice had the kind of tone in which someone might say, 'Oh, I found a granola bar' if they were adrift in a life raft with no supplies save for food, of which they had more than they wanted.

"Girlfriend?" asked Catano disinterestedly.

Nick shook his head. "Nah, just someone I met. I'll just, uh, answer her later."

Judy got the feeling that Nick was trying to avoid adding to her unpleasant mood by injecting a totally irrelevant bit of levity. "Go ahead," she urged, speaking more cheerfully than she felt. "It's not like it'll get in the way of anything."

Catano's eyes flicked to Judy, as if she were thinking of suggesting that they should discuss what to do once they got back to the precinct. She let it slide, however, and occupied herself with thinking it over privately.

"Remember," she advised Nick, "you're not allowed to discuss the case with anyone outside the ZPD."

"He knows that," Judy carped in her friend's defense.

Nick bit his lip, keeping quiet about the matter as he read Taelia's message. _'What's up?'_

 _'Not much,'_ he admitted. ' _Why do you ask?'_

 _'Mostly bored,'_ answered she honestly. _'I was wondering if you knew anything about this Obearon guy who nailed the Community Center.'_

The fox felt a chill down his spine, then shook it off. The story was all over the news; of course someone had caught the codename, and who wouldn't be curious about it? _'Nothing worth mentioning,'_ he answered. _'Guy's trying to make trouble, I guess.'_

 _'Got any friends in the ZPD who could clear things up?'_

Nick shrugged off the sense of being scrutinized. _'They're all over it, I'm sure, but I don't think they're going to discuss it much with a civilian. Loose lips sink ships, right?'_

He could almost see her shrug in reply. _'Yeah, I guess I should have realized that. I just needed a break from getting things ready for the concert.'_

 _'I thought the concert was off until they figured out what to do about it,'_ texted Nick, confused.

 _'It is, but we still have to be ready. Besides, in about a week I'm supposed to start freelancing again, so I'll need to have everything for Vixen ready to go.'_

That made sense.

 _'But,'_ she continued, _'I needed a break and thought I'd text you.'_

He chuckled a little at that. It was nice to know that, even with police work dealing him a raw hand, he could still hold a female's attention well enough. _'Mission accomplished.'_

 _'Yeah. Speaking of missions, how's it going getting into the ZPD?'_

Nick frowned at that. He started to tap in, _'Not so great,'_ then reconsidered. _'Not much I can discuss. Trade secrets, you know?'_

She sent back a smiley face. _'What, like being an agent or something?'_

 _'Yeah, kind of like that.'_

 _'Okay, Double-O-Savage,'_ Taelia answered, throwing in a wink. _'I'll let you get back to your trade secrets while I grapple with the dastardly menace of computer graphics.'_

The joke was actually worth a chuckle. _'OK. Oh, any word on the concert?'_

 _':( Nope. Big-wigs are trying to sort that out now. X said they'll let him know and he'll tell us.'_

Nick frowned and texted back a quick, _'Hang in there,'_ capped off with a smile and a _'ttyl.'_ He had to admit, the situation cut through his usual indifference. He had, as a rule, avoided getting too concerned with current events except where he could make some green off of them. This time, though, it was for something he and his new friends at the ZPD had risked their necks over. That made it... well, kind of personal.

Plus, the frown Taelia had sent brought with it a too-clear mental image of what she must look like at the moment; probably tired, anxious, and a little short on sleep.

 _Kind of like Mom did the last time I saw her,_ he thought guiltily.

"You okay, Nick?"

Judy's voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he quickly assumed the neutral-with-a-dash-of-cheerful demeanor he always put on when he'd been pulled out of somber thoughts. It was a time-mastered look; just enough to seem relaxed without overplaying the part. "Oh, yeah," he affirmed, stretching and then pocketing his phone. "Taelia's just busy getting ready for a concert."

"Let me guess," Catano ventured. "The one yesterday's attack stopped dead in its tracks?"

Nick bit his lip. "Uh, yeah. That one. It's not stopped, just, uh... up in the air."

Judy looked back at him anxiously. With everything else going on, she had forgotten Nick's mentioning that Taelia and her band would be involved.

"Well then," said Catano in a perfectly level tone, "we'd better do our part and bring in Obearon."

At this remark – optimistic by the cheetah's standards – Judy decided to pick up the ball. "You're right," she agreed, drumming up her enthusiasm. "The sooner we get the paperwork on this call out of the way, the sooner we can get back to real leads."

They were, at that point, only a minute away from HQ, and as they walked in Judy even mustered the nerve to wave to Clawhauser – except that Clawhauser wasn't there. In his usual place was Officer Wolfard, looking bored out of his skull with one arm propped on the table and the paw thereof supporting his head.

"Wait, what happened to Ben?" asked Nick even as Judy and Catano stopped and looked in confusion.

Judy was the first to seek an answer, dashing forward and making a jump to catch the edge of the desk like a chin-up bar. "What are you doing here?" she asked anxiously.

Wolfard blinked at her sudden appearance, having apparently not even noticed her approach. "Oh, hi Judy. Ben had some kind of problem an hour ago, so they called me off patrol to cover for him. Lucky me," he added sourly, drumming his claws on the desk.

Nick glanced up at Catano for a reaction, supposing she had known the chubby cheetah the longest. She had her lips drawn in and, though Nick's angle of vision hid her face, he had the feeling her brow was furrowed. It was, perhaps, the most expressive he'd seen her yet. She also seemed to relax a fraction when Judy's question of whether it was serious or not was met with an, "I don't think so."

"Well," said Catano, "we've got things to do. Come on, you two."

As they departed, Wolfard raised a paw to stall them. "Hey, does the name Poisson mean anything to you guys? I thought I'd heard it being talked about it around here."

The trio looked at one another in surprise at this apropos query. "Well, it does just so happen that a skunk by that name pranked me at my apartment the other day," Judy fumed as Nick paused to check an alert from his phone. He went to hit "Ignore," but his thumb slipped and landed on "View." He instinctively moved to close the message, but the words on the screen froze his brain and his thumb in the middle. In under a second his face flashed from confusion to disbelief. Another second brought him around to resignation, lowering his eyelids and pulling down his ears as his tail swished in marked displeasure.

 _Well,_ he thought, _that's typical – in a very annoyingly unexpected kind of way._

Unaware of Nick's surprise discovery, the three officers continued their discussion of Poisson. "Two days ago," Catano corrected, to Judy's annoyance. "And she's one of the mammals of interest we've been assigned to investigate."

"I thought so," said the wolf. "Her name just came up in the news. Let's see..." He turned to the laptop in front of him, tapped the touch pad and keys a couple of times, and nodded. "Yeah, here we go." He gently spun the device around to show them a video clip. As it played, Catano took a knee to let Judy hop up and get a better view.

As the story unfolded, Judy gaped. Catano's eyes widened. Nick was still staring at his phone, but finally managed to snap out of it.

"Carrots, I think you'll want to see... this." He stopped, now staring transfixed at the news story on the screen. His ears fell back in dismay, for in his rapid train of thought he had hoped that maybe they could take care of Taelia's message discreetly

Their investigation had just gotten considerably more complicated.

 **More complicated? Okay, that can't be good. What's up with Poisson, and why did I throw in another false alarm?**

 **I'll answer the second one for the moment: no, seeing Judy fail does not make me feel better about my own sad, miserable life – especially since my life's not really sad or miserable most of the time. However, I realized that there was a danger of events flowing too fast for the time table I had in mind (if you look over previous chapters, there's a clue as to what that time table is), and I also realized that a lot of police investigations do involve false leads and alarms, particularly when they have to deal with panicked civilians and deliberate misdirection. In addition, I remembered reading some years ago about abandoned houses being used illegally for paintball, and I had always wanted to use that in a story. So, mission accomplished.**

 **The security tricks referenced in this chapter, by the way, are also drawn from reality. I have seen fake camera birdhouses and hope to build one myself when I have the time. Fake entrances are a nod to the Winchester Mansion (not a fan of the spookhouse part, but I love almost anything cleverly built), and boards with nails or screws jutting upward are a common way to keep bears out of cabins.**

 **Judy's methods of disguising herself are drawn from various sources. The pens in her pant leg, for example, are a takeoff of the old trick of altering one's stride and tracks by putting a small rock in one's shoe, which obviously would not work so well for her in its original form. Pens would be less effective (burrs would be more suitable, but harder to find on short notice), but better than nothing and probably passable if they could be lodged in a tender area such as the back of the knee. They would also make handy, if crude, defensive weapons in a pinch.**

 **The music video Taelia was tinkering with is directly based on the song 'Hero' by Skillet. I included that as an Easter Egg already (when Taelia brought Nick to band practice), so I won't list it with this chapter's Easter Eggs. I will, however, recommend watching said video. Not only is it a great song with solid lyrics, but it's done up as a pretty good tribute to First Responders.**

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest: Yep. I think Chief Bogo is going to regret his doubts about making Nick an officer. His knack for getting into places will be very key to the story, I assure you.**

 **Guest: Oh, sí, Nick está muy loco; loco como un zorro.**

 **And on a minor note, Hawktooth realized I've been misspelling Wolfard's name as Wolford. So I'll be going back and fixing that.**

 **Easter Eggs**

 **Greek Mythology**

 **Superman**

 **You might have also noticed a nod to Jordy, Judy's... spirited little brother from my other Zootopia storyline, "Fox Dens and Rabbit Trails," also known (so far anyway) as the "Christmas in Bunnyburrow" set. The birdhouse thing struck me as completely up his alley.**


	24. Twenty-Four: Butting Heads

Proofreading by Hawktooth and Warriors27.

" **That's dangerous talk, Tombs; dangerous and unsupportable. Listen, you old buzzard, you've been at this for decades without one success to your name. If you never accomplished anything as a young man, who'd believe you created Techflight as an old one?"**

 **Norman Osborne,** _ **Spectacular Spider-Man Episode 1**_

 **About two hours before the previous scene...**

Not far from City Hall, in a well-lit meeting room with sand-colored walls, an assortment of animals had gathered. All of them were dressed in simple, dignified attire which belied extraordinary cost. They were heads of business; the very pick of Zootopia's economic elite. From all fields of industry, they had gathered to discuss the upcoming benefit concert – if, indeed, there was to be a concert. The gutting of the old community center had thrown that plan into a tailspin.

As much as everyone's mind was on the fire of the past, there was another fire which smoldered in that very room, though all did their best to give it no mention. This conflagration concerned two particular board members: Olivia Poisson, and a dapper goat across from her. The goat, as full of self-importance as Olivia herself, was of the oriental kind known as a serow. His name was William Cudd, and while some might have called him and Olivia rivals, Olivia would have disagreed quite bluntly. The word 'rival' implied that there was competition, and when it came to products, there was none. Cudd, having begun with considerable success in another line entirely, had inherited a failing soap and shampoo factory of the type which manufactured store-brand products. Resolving to ply his skills in the arena of advertising, he had begun around the same time as Olivia's father had started to rise in the world.

The serow had done reasonably well, particularly in the market for naturally derived products. Firmly old-fashioned and classical in his mindset, he had rebranded the factory and retreated as much as possible from artificial ingredients and chemicals, defaulting instead to floral essences and dairy proteins. However, in reviews of up-and-coming products and companies, Pwasson's Passion had consistently placed ahead of Cudd's Sudds. This naturally impacted the flow of customers and investors and limited Cudd to marginal demographics. Then, when Olivia had taken charge, she had sought out some old folk recipes and enhanced them with her own ingenuity, pushing into markets previously dominated by Cudd.

The main result of this competition was that, in William Cudd's eyes, Olivia Poisson was a young upstart who got lucky. She, meanwhile, considered him an old goat in every sense of the phrase, stuck in the Middle Ages with an inflated sense of his own importance. Any hope of friendship between the two heads of business had perished when Poisson's promotional staff beat Cudd at his strongest point (advertising), and literally added insult to injury in the bargain. An ad came out featuring a nanny goat – a particularly successful actress at the time – endorsing the new all-organic line of Pwasson shampoos with a style fit to rival Gazelle's. Buyers had flocked from Cudd's company to Poisson's, but that hadn't been the worst of it. Olivia swore up and down that she'd had no hand in choosing the actress for the ad, and that she never knew the nanny goat in question was William's old flame. Whether or not that was true, the serow had never forgiven the blow.

Everyone in the room was aware of the tension between the two, but as a rule they all worked to put personal biases and arguments aside – and few more so than Mr. LeWing, who was acting to represent Mr. Killrahb as chairman. He had clearly had an abundance of coffee to ready himself for the task, and now spoke with enough energy and boldness for a mammal many times his size.

"Ladies and gentlemammals," he piped crisply, "you all know why we're here. We've got to choose a new venue for the upcoming charity concert, and we've got to do it today if we want to avoid delaying the event."

No one spoke, but there were many nods of agreement.

"If the concert is delayed," he went on, "most of the tickets will have to be refunded; more than we can hope to re-sell in a reasonable time. The floor is open."

"The Palm Tree Hotel and Casino," Cudd suggested right off the bat. "We ought to have used it from the beginning." Indeed, they would have arranged that at one of their meetings, but the establishment in question was owned by a company located out of state.

A shrew named Alphonse Biggliani spoke up in a voice thick with age and accent. "Mister Cudd, you know we can't use the Palm for the event. It was too expensive to make the event possible before, and now on short notice it's impossible. Besides, some mammals can't handle an event in Sahara Square." As a case in point, he gestured to his polar bear assistant. The ursine, who was struggling to manage in the warm temperatures of that room, had been hoping to bring his son to the event.

"That's very true," rejoined Olivia. "Besides, the policies there are too complicated when it comes to booking acts. Most of the groups we've hired don't have the paperwork to perform there, and processing it would take weeks more than we have. We'd have to have the artists already approved there fill up the time, and even Gazelle can't keep an act going that long."

"Well what do you suggest, Poisson?" Cudd argued, knowing that the skunk had some object in mind (she always did, it seemed) and feeling that he might as well attack that as quickly as possible. "There are few other places large enough. Even my establishment couldn't accommodate the event, as you noted when we first chose the community center." It was a fact he admitted with great dissatisfaction. They had chosen the community center because, in deference to Zootopia's wide range of animals, it had multiple rooms for the comfort and health of all climate types, with screens to let them all watch a single event. Cudd's venue, on the other hand, had no such amenities. The auditorium was climate controlled for any crowd from parched to polar, but it was still only one room.

Now the truth was, Miss Poisson had considered this problem for more than two hours following her conversation with Lillian – and she had come up with a solution which, she was confident, would impress even Cudd. Now, with her deliberations done, she steepled her fingers and spoke confidently. "There is a place available which is much more versatile than your... venue, Master Cudd..." she allowed herself a chuckle for the pleasure of watching him bristle. "... and one which could be easily arranged to accommodate a wide range of guests in better comfort and safety. It could, in fact, be of greater use than even the community center."

All eyes were now fixed upon her. "What place is that, Miss Poisson?" asked LeWing, visibly interested. He, for one, knew of no such public building, but if Olivia spoke truly then the place she described could well be a veritable holy grail of an establishment as it concerned their needs.

She smiled and tipped the steeple in his direction before parting her paws and laying them flat upon the table. "My dear colleagues, I speak of no other place than my own mansion."

The impact of her words was nothing less than electrifying. Comments for and against this proposal flew around the table, though they were quickly silenced by the shocked and infuriated voice of Cudd.

"Absurd!" he cried, resisting the urge to smack a hoof down on the table top. "Holding the benefit concert in a private home? Besides, I doubt your mansion can handle the size of crowd we're dealing with, or the size of guests."

Poisson scoffed inwardly as if Cudd had gloated over moving a pawn ahead in a chess match. "Really, William. Everyone here knows my mansion – at least its more prominent rooms – can accommodate elephants and giraffes as easily as mice and ferrets." This was no exaggeration. When she had the mansion built, Poisson had wanted it to be a monument to her father's success and to what she had built upon that success. Few ancient temples could have compared to it for scale.

"In large numbers?" challenged Cudd tersely.

Olivia turned her attention to Walter LeWing. "Master LeWing, how much of the audience will be from the larger set?"

Mr. LeWing flipped through a binder full of notes before coming to a stop. "Only about... seven percent, I'd say. Most of them will be on the small side."

Poisson smiled triumphantly. "Then size should not be an issue. Really, Cudd, I know you haven't been to any of my parties for years, but you should at least remember the size of the place."

Cudd had another argument ready and waiting. "That might be true," he allowed diplomatically, "But doesn't your mansion have a reputation which would make it quite dubious for family events?"

Olivia gazed at him unpleasantly through slitted eyes. "A greatly undeserved reputation," she replied coarsely. It was true that she often had personal meetings at her home with key investors, entrepreneurs, and other businessmammals. It was also true that most of those were males, and generally rather handsome ones; a fact which she firmly attributed to the general demographics of the city's community. Invariably, she denied that there was anything shameful involved in those meetings, and that it was her own business what she did in her own mansion. None the less, tabloids and gossip columnists had had a field day with her name, and she would even allow that once in a while they actually gotten her name right as they slandered it.

Many in the room supposed that it was only to avoid total chaos that Olivia did not accuse Cudd of having a hoof in her home's bad press. She had, at any rate, confided such a suspicion in more than one of them in passing discourse. They were, however, wrong. She had been expecting his unseemly remark; nay, she had depended on it.

With the air of one calmly moving a chess knight, she interwove her fingers. "That is one reason why I make the offer," she explained, sweeping a pads-up paw from one side to the other. "The city will have a suitable place for the party, and I will clear my name of a blemish which has hung about it far too long."

This settled the curiosity of some, who had been waiting on an ulterior motive from the skunk.

"What about conflict of interest?" asked a llama. "We agreed to balance the cost of sponsoring the event with advertising for all our companies. Wouldn't using your mansion tip the balances we agreed upon in advance?"

Cudd threw the llama a thankful glance.

"Perhaps," Olivia conceded, "but I assure you all that all advertising for contributing corporations will be done according to the plans we had in mind when we anticipated the community center as our location. Some of you might even benefit from it. You, for example, Mr. Little," she suggested, gesturing to a mouse a few seats down from Cudd. "How much more effective will your advertisements be in a room set aside for the smaller guests? One where they need not watch out for tramping elephants while they enjoy the party?"

The mouse clearly liked this idea. His business, which specialized in ultra-small-scale electronics, both employed and marketed to a predominantly rodentine slice of the population. Not only would having them in a room set aside for the smaller set be more direct, but if he hurried he could change the print orders for the ads and have them put in a smaller size to save some money.

"The same goes for everyone," Poisson went on, looking around the room and unfolding her hands to gesture to the company at large. "There are enough rooms to provide superior arrangements for guests of all sizes and species." Seeing that she had the undivided attention of the board members – most of whom were nodding – she chose to press her advantage. "Also, I will arrange the transportation of guests to the mansion at my own expense. That should settle any concerns about conflict of interest."

Cudd, seeing that he was the only one still in disapproval of the plan, made one final effort to sway the rest of the committee. "That depends," he challenged, hiding his iciness behind a masquerade of skepticism. "Will the cost of the buses be more or less than your fee for the use of your mansion?"

Miss Poisson smiled with barely concealed triumph. _So predictable,_ she thought, mentally sliding a pawn into the enemy's home row on an imaginary chess board. In her mind's eye, the pawn stretched and formed into a formidable queen. _Check and mate, Master Cudd._

"What fee?" she asked innocently. "I may bring in the bill for cleaning up my home after the concert, but the use of the mansion will be _au gratis._ "

Cudd's expression fell – not only because Olivia had trumped his last card, but because the look on her face could not have been clearer. She had _used_ his last card to deliver her own _coup de gras_.

To add insult to injury, LeWing began to applaud. "Marvelous!" he cried. "I've been to your parties, Olivia. I'm sure you won't disappoint us or the public." He lifted one wing with a dramatic flourish. "I move that we approve this proposal and begin the necessary changes to our plans at once."

"I second that!" cried an echidna.

The vote was a complete shut-out, and when the call came for 'all opposed,' all eyes turned to William Cudd.

Instead of voicing his vote, the serow folded his hooves and mustered his entire reservoir of dignity and indifference. "Since Miss Poisson has made such a generous contribution," he reasoned, "I would like to make a donation of my own. Cudd's Sudds will underwrite the full cost of all the refreshments for the event, in addition to our pre-arranged assistance."

Several of the board members smirked and elbowed one another, seeing this quite plainly as a last-ditch effort to save face. Olivia greeted it with grudging respect, or as close as she was likely to get where the goat was involved. Since the stage would be dominated by the musical acts and was therefore an ad-free zone, the food tables would supply the best exposure any company could ask for after the house itself.

 _I suppose anyone can have a fit of competence_ , she thought.

LeWing either missed the competitiveness between them, or graciously ignored it. "Splendid, splendid!" he beamed. "You'll reduce our overhead and leave more for the fund. Everyone wins."

Most of the mammals in the room heartily agreeing with that sentiment. William Cudd... not so much.

 _That miserable wench,_ he thought. _This is not done yet, skunk._

* * *

When Judy read the news article, she was stunned. "Are they even allowed to have it in a private home?" she asked.

Nick shrugged. "Golden rule, Carrots. He – or she – who has the gold makes the rules."

Catano raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the fox. "I make it a rule to get my mammal no matter how rich they are," she remarked, "but I doubt the city is going to try to stop her from being generous at a time like this. Why would they?"

It was, indeed, a cunning political maneuver. "Besides," Nick mused, "she holds a ton of parties at her place. Mr. Bi- I mean, my old boss..." he amended under a curious flick of the cheetah's rusty orange eyes, "... used to go to them all the time. I never tagged along, but I'm pretty sure she's got a place that'll fit just about any crowd."

Judy's face was scrunched in annoyance. "This is not going to help our investigation," she complained. She didn't say it out loud, but she was also thinking that it seemed pret-ty convenient, and familiar, that this had happened while the three of them were waylaid by a false alarm.

Nick patted her on the arm, and their eyes met in a meaningful look. He hadn't exactly been that helpful in her first investigation either, but that hadn't stopped her.

Meanwhile, Catano rose from her knee cautiously enough to let Judy drop to the floor in a reasonable manner. Stretching her arms forward, the cheetah cracked her knuckles and rolled her head from side to side. "No one said being police was easy. Come on; let's see about those warrants."

None of them were pleased to learn that the judge had apparently never gotten their warrant requests.

"What the heck is going on here?" asked Judy.

 **What indeed? The concert's back on, but is everything on the up-and-up with the new plans, or is there an ace up someone's sleeve? Will the event go as planned, or will the bitterness between Poisson and her rival bring the peace rally down in flames? They say politics makes strange bedfellows, but it's got nothing on business.**

 **I realize that the size of Olivia's mansion, as implied in this chapter, is rather surprising; I plead guilty to not having covered that in more detail back in chapter one. Certainly, she could live happily in a much smaller home. However, as you might have noted, she is a rather showy skunk. Also, assuming she had parties and business events in mind when she bought or built her mansion, she would have chosen a place which could be used by any size of mammal which could reasonably be expected down there. Believe it or not that would theoretically include elephants, as I understand they have been known on occasion to venture into caves in search of salt. Most likely not all the rooms in her mansion would be elephant-sized, but she probably has a fair number of rooms in that range and others phasing out to smaller sizes, the smallest being in her own range of course. I also reasoned that most of the guests at the party would be on the small side based on what I know of the animal kingdom (even among dinosaurs, the average size was only about equal to a sheep).**

 **I chose to incorporate a Japanese serow by drawing on the game** _ **Zoo Tycoon,**_ **of which I used to play the full version (that is,** _ **Complete Collection**_ **)** **when I had more time and the means to play it. serows were hardly very exotic in comparison to various endangered, aquatic, and even extinct animals, but I remembered them anyway and decided to make Cudd one.**

 **Speaking of zoos and zoo animals, I must confess a mistake. In earlier chapters I described Nicole - a red wolf - as looking like a giant fox. A recent trip to a zoo which happened to have red wolves showed me that I had confused red wolves with maned wolves (this is why Disney thoroughly researched Zootopia). I've gone back and tweaked that in chapters nine and sixteen; most of the time Nicole looks like a normal reddish-brown red wolf (albeit with somewhat more fur due to tonic and diet). On stage, in keeping with the band's name, she probably uses washable makeup to give herself a more vulpine look. I've also fixed and made some small improvements to chapter 13 (Wolfard's name misspelled).**

 **By the way, stay tuned for an update Easter and a special bonus in Chapter 25! If you haven't followed or faved this story, now's as good a time as any. Happy reading!**

 **Easter Eggs**

 **One of the characters at the board meeting should be familiar (the name I gave him belongs to WANMWAD)  
**


	25. Twenty-Five: Gathering Thunder

Happy Easter, everyone! (and Happy April Fools' Day). To celebrate, at the end of this chapter I'm going to start posting Easter Egg answers chapter by chapter instead of having them all in a chapter of their own at the end. At the bottom of this chapter you'll find the answers from chapters Four and Six. I'll be doubling up until I'm one chapter behind (i.e. each chapter having the answers for the previous one, if applicable) and just go from there. I wanted to do something for April Fools' Day with my _Fox Dens and Rabbit Trails_ series, but figured I should prepare that better first. So, Happy Easter!

Proofreading by Hawktooth and Warriors27.

" **Why should we not seize him at once?"**

" **Our case is not complete. The fellow is wary and cunning to the last degree. It is not what we know, but what we can prove. If we make one false move, the villain may escape us yet."**

 **The Hound of the Baskervilles** **, a Sherlock Holmes novel by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle**

"What do you mean the judge never got our application?" Judy demanded. "You sent it in, didn't you?"

With a phone to her ear, Catano raised her free paw to stall the question. Her brow was furrowed, and her lips were drawn in. She didn't know if it helped or hindered things that the secretary on the other end had just asked her, in effect, the very same question.

"Yes, I filed it this morning," she answered calmly, waving Nick and Judy after her toward the cubicles. She kept talking on the phone as they walked. "I faxed it in at about ten hundred hours." She paused. Then, in a voice which seemed to subtly turn every syllable into, 'Oh, come on, seriously?' she translated that as, "Ten AM."

Under any other circumstances, Nick would have rolled his eyes. _Figures she'd talk in military time._

Judy glanced at Nick. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she hissed.

Nick nodded. On the one paw, the fact that their false alarm coincided so neatly with a misplaced warrant application _and_ such a public gesture on Poisson's part… well, if that wasn't fishy he'd sell his tail. After deliberately humiliating and riling Judy a few days before, it would be exactly the skunk's style to dangle a clue that was so obvious and yet would never stick with a judge.

On the other paw, was it a little _too_ obvious? He shook his head. "I am, but I don't know if we're right or not."

Officer Catano ignored them, concentrating on the phone call. "May I speak to the judge please. Yes, right this- well let me know when he gets out. I'll be right here."

Both of the smaller partners were getting exasperated. Their case was falling apart faster than a badly built block tower, and it was too much to believe that their various mishaps were by chance. Even Nick, despite his reluctance to pin an accusation on the obvious suspect, knew _someone_ had to be orchestrating things.

"What the heck is going on here?" asked Judy, drumming her foot. Her ears seemed practically glued flat to her head.

Catano's ears were back as well, and her eyes had a peculiar abstract-yet-attentive look to them, like the practiced gaze of a detective studying every stitch, button, and mud stain of someone's attire. "I don't know," she admitted, "but if we're hitting this many dead ends then we _have_ to be getting close enough to pose a threat to Obearon – whoever that is."

 _I'm_ so _glad we all agree,_ thought Judy sarcastically. _Now what the heck are we supposed to_ do _about it already?_

She groaned inwardly as they entered the elephantine cubicle again. Apparently its usual occupant was on paid migration. Judy bit her lip. _I guess Callie likes the elbow room,_ she mused, trying to find something to be cheerful about.

The setting didn't do her any favors. Back when she started at the academy – her first exposure to elephant-sized furniture and objects – she had loved the novelty. For a bunny who grew up in a town full of mostly rabbit-sized things, it had been like stepping into a storybook; Jackrabbit and the Beanstalk or something. It got old fast, especially when it took her weeks to get the hang of opening those giant doors. Getting herself a cup of coffee without jumping up on the counter (and thereby incurring the wrath of the cleaning yak) should have been a Pawlympic event. Now, with its long shadows and oversized desk, the pachyderm's cubicle was starting to remind her of that.

"So now what?" asked Nick, disrupting her train of thought in an unwitting act of mercy.

Catano's attention returned to the phone and she held up a paw. Then she decided to put the call on speaker. "Yes, this is Officer Catano from the ZPD."

 _"Ah, good day. Well, officer, what can I do for you?"_ The judge sounded like he was doing the best he could to hide serious fatigue, suggesting his day had not been much better than theirs.

Catano didn't let that stop her. "I faxed you a request for a warrant to inspect the farms and facilities of Pwasson's Passion at Ten o' clock this morning. Your secretary says you never got it."

The judge sounded genuinely puzzled. _"Well, he was right. I've gotten all kinds of search warrant requests lately, but I don't remember anything for a soap company. I think I'd remember something that unusual."_

"But we've sent you two!" Judy exclaimed, catching his answer.

Catano raised a paw again to halt the rabbit's outburst. Though neither of the others could see it, she was trying to hold back a growl of her own. She was usually very disciplined, but she hated when things dragged on – and besides, every mammal had limits. "Sorry, Your Honor." She glanced at Judy, and a brief look flashed through her eyes as if she were mentally telling the bunny, 'I'm just as annoyed as you are, but this isn't the time. Keep it to yourself.' Then she returned to the phone call and was once again all business. "I still have the original. If I fax it to you in the next _five minutes,_ can you be there to get it?"

The judge protested. _"Officer, I respect your job, but I am up to a giraffe's neck in paperwork."_

Seeing Judy's drumming foot, the cheetah decided – against her better nature – to exploit his stressed situation. "Then perhaps you could just approve the warrant and send it back to us. Quick in and out, and you'll have one less caller to think about."

The judge sighed. _"I'm sorry, officer; I really am, but I'm up to my armpits in hearings for this and applications for that, especially over the new Night Howler attacks."_

Judy resisted the urge to pull on her ears in annoyance, and Nick bit his lip. _Oohhhh, the irony,_ he thought.

Catano kept her voice level, but her body was starting to stiffen up. "Well, that's exactly what this is _about,_ so…"

 _"Listen, if you send it again my secretary will see that I get it as soon as possible."_

"If I send it right now, will you-?"

 _"I have a hearing to get to. Just send it as soon as you get the chance, and I'll-"_

"I'm headed to the fax machine… no, please don't-" she stopped in mid-stride as a click came through the phone. She let out a sigh, and for just an instant her teeth could be seen through her lips. Catching the flash of white, Nick thought that maybe he was finally going to witness someone successfully triggering the officer.

 _Better him than me,_ he couldn't help thinking.

Callie didn't erupt, though for a moment she wrapped her paw around the phone as if she meant to crush it bare-pawed. Then, seeming to remind herself that breaking the phone would fix nothing, the cheetah eased her grasp and sighed. "Hang up," she groaned. Then in a wearier tone, she added, "Bureaucracy."

Judy couldn't help thinking of what she'd been warned about before; that Olivia Poisson had the means to make things difficult even for the ZPD. "Do you think someone bribed the judge or something?" she asked.

"Eehhh, doubtful," Nick put in, twirling a paw. "That was Judge Stalker, right?"

Catano nodded, evidently inquisitive. "You know him?"

"I know everyone," Nick boasted, folding his arms smugly. "Well, almost everyone. And Judge Stalker may get a bit tangled up in things, but he's not crooked. He's almost as much of a stickler as you, and I'm pretty sure if anyone tried to bribe him he'd tie them up and tell the cops to keep the cash as evidence. Besides, he's a thylacine. Something that poses a threat to preds is as much of a concern to him as you," he pointed an index claw at Catano, then flipped his thumb toward himself, "or even me."

"Or me," Judy put in, herbivore though she was.

This drew a frown from the cheetah. "Well, your diets and my diet aren't the point here. Since we're stuck waiting on Stalker's queue, we'd better get back in it. I'll be right back."

Nick and Judy looked dismally at one another as she left. "I know what you're thinking, Carrots," Nick preempted.

She folded her arms, her face creased in an implacable scowl. "That this whole thing reeks of déjà vu?" She didn't mean to be snappy with her best friend, of all mammals, but the whole thing was getting really annoying. "Yeah, that's pretty much what I'm thinking."

 _Oh, boy,_ he thought. _This could get ugly._ He shrugged, hoping to dampen her smoldering temper. "It _could_ be coincidence," he reasoned, "Or a false lead."

"Who could plant a false lead like this?" asked Judy, spreading her paws. "We get a false tip while she just _happens_ to be in a meeting that ends up making it ten times harder to follow up her case? And _some_ how while all that's going on, the warrant requests on her just _disappear_?"

"Uh, well," he hesitated, raising a paw to scratch nervously at the back of his head. He could have pointed out that with things the way they were, Judge Stalker probably had enough paperwork on his paws to misplace half a library, never mind two forms. He decided this would be unhelpful and perhaps hazardous to his health. "When you put it that way… yeah, I guess it does sound like a pretty tight case. I'm just trying to keep an open mind on this."

Judy lowered her gaze. Her tightened lips and furrowed brow both loosened with uncertainty. Deep down, she knew Nick was right. Just because a given answer seemed obvious didn't mean it was true. Heck, when she went into that empty house all the evidence _seemed_ to point to a Night Howler lab clear until she got upstairs. This could be more of the same. Poisson might _not_ be Obearon; the culprit _could_ be someone entirely different. Maybe she was just being suspicious because the skunk had been so obnoxious.

Still, Poisson was her initial assignment, and the clues on Obearon were slim enough that she had to follow what she could. "Well, any ideas on what we could chase down while we wait for that warrant to finally get through?"

He shrugged. "Well, we could try interrogating Lionheart, since we already tried Bellwether."

That actually got Judy's mind off her irritation for a moment. "Hmm. He'd probably be more cooperative than Bellwether. He sure couldn't be much less."

Lionheart's official public stance on the whole fiasco was, as he had told Judy at his arrest, that he was trying to protect the city. Everyone knew that he denied any knowledge of the darting and claimed that he had only meant to contain and analyze the problem without mass panic. _Off_ the record, he had told the ZPD that the whole operation had been in motion before he knew it existed. According to him, the mercenaries and doctor had already been hired and in action when he learned of it and – naturally – took over. He suspected that Bellwether had set him up so that when the world found out he would get the blame, but wanted that suspicion kept quiet lest he look like he was passing the blame.

Truth be told, Judy still wasn't quite past being ticked at the former mayor for what he did. Whatever his motives, he _had_ illegally held innocent mammals and caused their families endless worry. More personally, he had done this as someone she'd looked up to for years. Betrayal was nothing easy to shrug off. All the same, she had to admit his answer was logical. It covered all the facts, and it made looking to him for answers seem more reasonable.

"We could do that, I guess," she admitted.

Nick thought for a moment. "And there's another thing you need to look out for on this. Now that's Poisson's in the limelight, it's bound to come up that you're investigating her. It might even end up publicly known that you freaked out over some papers she left at your apartment."

She folded her arms at this suggestion. "I wish we _could_ tell everyone that fiasco was her," she griped. Because everything was still under investigation, the ZPD had said nothing so far about the origin of the package. Rumors had flown around, of course, and the fact that the box had contained documents was officially the ZPD's worst-kept secret of the decade. There had even been a few articles – which she had tried to ignore – questioning her professionalism for having such documents dropped off at her apartment when she wasn't even there. All things considered, she would have loved for everyone to know that Poisson caused that ruckus on purpose.

Nick shook his head. "Uh, yeah, that's not gonna make such a good headline. 'Skunk Philanthropist and Benefactor Sends Files to Help Investigation. Officer Hopps Starts Mass Panic.'"

Judy was incensed. "Sends files to help?" she echoed. " _Hopps_ starts mass panic?"

He nodded. "Yep. See, she's all over the news giving her own time and living space to help the city recover from a local disaster. People are not going to buy that she's getting in the way of a police investigation into the _roots_ of that disaster. Besides, if she really is behind this then there's no way she just ad-libbed making you the town clown and herself the all-city champ in just a couple of days. She'll be just waiting to play the victim card."

"But she… is." Unfortunately, she could see that this was getting nowhere. Nick was completely right.

"Careful, Carrots; you'll ruin your teeth."

Judy froze. She didn't even realize she'd _been_ grinding her teeth. "Actually, our teeth can get _too_ long if we don't wear them down," she answered mechanically. Getting back on the subject, she added, "Okay, so what do we do now?"

"Well, we've got nothing on Olivia _except_ that everything lines up," Nick reasoned. "I have an idea, but you're probably not going to like it."

It was a testimony to how well they had gotten to know each other that she needed say nothing. He could literally tell just by the twitching of her ears that she was listening.

"You _could_ ask to be switched over to tracking down Obearon."

Judy scowled. Admitting defeat was _not_ on her list of options – _ever._ "Nick, you _know_ I'm not going to fold."

He lifted his paws, shrugging helplessly. "Hey, hear me out. We _know_ Obearon's the bad guy; everyone knows that. Which means no public backlash if you go after him."

Judy was beginning to see how the dots connected. She hated to leave the skunk's scent (ha), but if she was Obearon like she thought…

"So we focus on Obearon, and try to find evidence to bring in whoever he or she is."

Nick nodded. "Besides, Old Hornhead's probably going to want everyone he can get on the known threat now that there is one."

It occurred to Judy that the ZPD's focus on only the known threat was just what kept them from figuring out the real cause of all those savage predators. On the flip side, they were spinning their wheels on Poisson anyway. At least this would help her to not go stir-crazy over the missing warrants.

"Alright, I'll ask Bogo. But I'm not giving up my assignment, and we should talk to Lionheart either way. Bellwether seemed to know something, and if she won't talk then maybe he will."

"That's my tough little bunny," Nick grinned, patting her on the head.

She pushed his paw away. "O-kay Junior, watch it." There was, however, no mistaking the more relaxed look in her lavender eyes. At least she had something useful to do now. "Thanks, Nick."

His playful, witty grin gave way to a softer smile, but all trace of it vanished at the sound of a clearing throat. Both of them jumped and spun to see Catano in the doorway, looking decidedly nonplussed.

"Well," she observed dryly, "I can see you two are hitting it off."

At Poisson Mansion, Barracus carefully fitted a bit of microfiber cloth over the tip of one of his claws, then dug it into the corner of an overlay on a gold-plated decorative urn. It was one of a half-dozen or so which stood on pedestals and added a regal air to one of Olivia Poisson's art galleries. It had been an hour since the mistress had called him with instructions to get everyone working double-time readying the mansion, and already it felt like five or six hours at least. Examining his work, he nodded in satisfaction and put the vessel back in its place before moving on to the next.

He swore under his breath and nearly dropped the vase - which cost more than he made in six months - as his phone rang. Hastily he set the article down and answered the phone with as civil a tone as he could manage, in case it was Poisson. "Yes?"

A nervous voice answered. "Bruce, I can't keep this up much longer."

He rumbled in his throat. It was the voice of Judge Stalker's nyala secretary. "Have you been figured out?"

"No, but they faxed it in again - and the judge is getting phone calls now wondering what's the-"

"Enough!" snapped the hyena, growing impatient. "I don't care what you have to do, but keep stalling for time. If this catches up with me, you'll be next. Understood?"

The antelope nodded. "Yes sir," he uttered, obviously wishing he'd never gotten involved.

Barracus hung up, growling to himself as he went back to his work. The antelope would never know it, but they had something in common.

 _The sooner this is over,_ thought the hyena, _the better off I'll be._

 **Ohh, shitake mushrooms. Now what? How exactly are things getting gummed up, and what's Barracus' angle in all of this? Will Lionheart have anything useful to tell them? Will he want to share it if he does? And what about Catano's untimely return? What exactly did she see, and what's going to happen if it gets back to Bogo? (then again, at least Clawhauser would get his donuts back)**

 **The nyala referenced in that last scene - for those who don't know - is a kind of small antelope which I was fortunate enough to see on the zoo outing referenced in my previous Author's Note. Unlike the stately deer-like animals one usually thinks of with antelope (a la Gazelle), nyala are not that different in size from large terriers. I was fortunate to see so many species of herbivore there, because I realized that it's much easier to think of carnivorous species but more necessary to think of herbivorous ones to keep Zootopia's ratio consistent.**

 **Thylacines (such as the judge) - for those of you who don't know - are a type of carnivorous marsupial officially listed as extinct in this world due mainly to hunting and deliberate extermination (owing to their reputation for attacking livestock). Also known as Tasmanian Tigers because of their striped pelts, they are rumored to still live in parts of Australia based on sightings, scat, and tracks. Since they would probably not have been willfully wiped out in the Zootopia world (except maybe in an event such as the Holocaust, which it strikes me would make a good but very grim story), it is safe to assume that Zootopia would have a stable population. For those who are wondering, I've dabbled in reports of unconfirmed animals most of my life, and cases of maybe-not-extinct ones like thylacines or Mokele-Mbembe are among my favorites. Believe it or not, slipping one in on a day about someone coming back from the dead was totally unplanned on my part. Still loving it.**

 **Easter Egg Answers:**

 **Chapter Four: Bambi (the rabbit and fawn trying to ice skate), Beauty and the Beast (less obvious; the snow leopard and the bison having a snowball fight), Lady and the Tramp/ Lady and the Tramp II (son of mismatched parents teasing his sisters). The Spectacular Spider-Man reference was in the lemming (dressed in red and blue) riding the back of an otter clad in red and green, reminiscent of a scene where Spider-Man more tauntingly "surfed" on Vulture's back in midflight. The comic strip was probably the easiest, with a duo of friends - one being a tiger - building a freakish snowman. This is, of course, a nod to the many bizarre snow sculptures of Bill Watterson's** _ **Calvin and Hobbes,**_ **particularly of the "Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goons" story arc. I realize most of the other Easter Eggs were not so obvious in writing, this being one of my earlier Easter Egg chapters. I should probably revise it later to give later readers a better shot.**

 **Chapter Six: Saint Ninian's is, as AngloFalcon guessed, a nod to the Redwall books by Bryan Jacques. Benny nailed the Christopher Lloyd reference, with Emitt Otterton having the same first name as and using the catchphrase of Doc Brown (played by said actor in the** _ **Back to the Future**_ **trilogy and other related works) and having a baseball bat in his room (a nod to Al, Lloyd's angelic character in** _ **Angels in the Outfield**_ **and its sequels). Personally I would love to see him play a part in Zootopia 2 if he's still in shape for it. The plot twist Judy recalls - targeting stockholders to raise one's own share values - is a nod to "The End of the World," the second episode of the Doctor Who reboot (i.e. the current series). I'm not as much of a fan of the reboot as I used to be, but End of the World was an exciting episode and the plot twist was fitting. Last but not least, the reference to a two-mammal team of feline mechanics working in a desert region (the ones who refurbished Nick's car) was a nod to the old action cartoon** _ **Swat Kats.**_ **If you look at chapter 13, there's a nod to them in there too.**

 **Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Little confused by the Spanish one; the only translation I could get was "Huy bets."**

 **One Easter Egg here, and because it's a special day I'm going to make the clue extra tricky:**

 **Timing is everything**

 **As always, don't forget to Fave, Follow, and Review (unless you already have). Happy Easter!**


	26. Twenty-Six: Torn by Pride

Couple of quick heads-ups before we get started: first off, I want to thank everyone who's been reading, and to apologize to those who worried about this story's long delay. Rest assured I have no plans of calling off any of my Zootopia material. If something ends prematurely, the best thing you can do is pray like heck for me. Why? Well, it probably means I got hit by a forklift at my new job or something. Morbid improbabilities aside, I'm touched that so many people were so interested in this story. I'll cover some of the reason for the delay in the note at the end.

Due to the length of said note, I'll give the Easter Egg clues at the start of this chapter (answers for chapters 7 and 9 are at the very bottom). There are three Disney references in this chapter, so look carefully. Bonus points for the first one to figure out how I named Lionheart's neighborhood and why.

Proofreading by Hawktooth

 **Juni:** **"** **How to Be A Spy** **. (We've) read it."**

 **Gary: "Well read it again.** _ **'**_ _ **A good spy makes no binding connections with family or friends.'**_ **"**

 **Juni: "Well I don't believe that. Do** _ **you?"**_

 _ **Spy Kids 2: Island of Lost Dreams**_

Nick and Judy jumped back away from each other on a shared reflex, paws snapping down to their sides like soldiers at the sound of a loud, 'Ten-HUT!'

"Spo- I mean Catano!" Nick fumbled, almost slipping into his habit of using nicknames. "We were, uh, talking about the case."

If the cheetah wore glasses, she'd have been looking over the tops of them. "Mm-hm," she answered, clearly not impressed.

"He's telling the truth," added Judy, feeling the need to defend her friend's standing – not to mention her own dignity. "He thinks we should ask Chief Bogo to let us focus more on Obearon."

Catano's demeanor called up memories of Chief Bogo's attitude when Judy tried to tell him that the empty Sky Tram boarding point had, just minutes ago, held a savage wildcat. After a moment, however, she apparently decided to just file away the incident and let it rest for the moment. "That sounds… reasonable," she allowed, strolling past them to return to the desk. She slipped the warrant request into a folder and then turned back towards them, clasping her paws behind her back and looking for all the world like a ship's captain during inspection. "I don't want to abandon the chase entirely, but we're not getting very far on this angle at any rate. Where do you suggest we start, Wilde?"

Nick and Judy both blinked, wondering why Catano would single him out. "Well," Nick ventured apprehensively, "I was thinking if we listened to the recordings again, we might find something in the background; a train, maybe, or something like that."

This drew a skeptical look from the cheetah. "We didn't get very good recordings," she admitted. "The phone was useless there, so all we've got are my and Hopps' recording equipment."

"True," Nick agreed, "but Obearon didn't just call _us_. Maybe the news stations got something; they record stuff all the time."

Judy shot her partner a pleased look. _Way to think outside the box, Slick,_ she thought.

Catano knew the ZPD was one step ahead of Nick there. The night shift had contacted every news outlet in the city and requested copies and recordings of anything and everything they got pertaining to Obearon. The phone calls with his side of the fight with Jesse, and the ones claiming responsibility for the attack on Killrahb, were already in the ZPD's hands. She did, however, have to admit it was promising that Nick thought of it so quickly. Maybe he'd make a decent officer after all, if they could teach him to act appropriately on the job. Calling a cheetah 'Spots' was a minor thing as long as it wasn't repeated too often, but the exchange she had seen on coming back… well, _that_ could be problematic. She knew all too well what happened when professionalism took a back seat.

"Do you have any other ideas?" she asked Nick, deciding to test his savvy a little further.

Nick thought back before venturing, "Well, we _were_ talking about asking Lionheart some more questions. It's a long shot, but it might help tie up some of our loose ends on the other investigation."

Catano mulled that over. "Bogo _does_ hate it when officers jump assignments," she mused.

Though the cheetah had not indicated Judy in any way, the rabbit couldn't help thinking of how ticked Bogo had been when she went after Weaselton. On the other paw, that little side trip _had_ effectively saved the city. "Well, you know him the best," she reasoned, throwing the ball back into Catano's court. "What do you think?"

The cheetah folded her arms. "We'll have an easier time getting reassigned if we ask first thing tomorrow – or if we leave a note at the end of our shift. Are you two busy after work today?"

Judy and Nick glanced at one another, wondering what Catano had in mind. "Not me," answered Judy, looking back up at her. "Why?"

Catano didn't answer right away. "Wilde?"

He shrugged. "Eh, nothing I can't push to later in the week," he offered. "At least not if this is important enough."

She gave him a look as if to remind him that he was still on probation and she was – for all purposes – his officer. "I suggest we look over the recordings until the shift changes, and then go have an informal interview with Lionheart. If we're going to get this past Bogo, we'd better exhaust all our leads. Time is ticking." She made for the door, then stopped so abruptly that they bumped into her legs in a maneuver calculated to test the smaller mammals.

"About what I saw coming in," she began slowly and deliberately. "My small mammal etiquette is rusty. What exactly do head-pats mean among rabbits and foxes?"

Judy bit her lip. Among rabbits, patting someone's head or playing with their ears could mean a number of things. From a larger mammal to a rabbit… well, it was like a lesser version of calling someone 'cute;' tolerable among close friends, but on the pushy side. Unfortunately, that made it _very_ easy to misread, especially for bystanders. She knew full-well that anything Nick did – including and maybe especially anything like that – could easily put him in a bad position with Bogo. She also knew that if she fudged an answer, it would be all too simple for Catano to look it up.

"It's a… well, it's not exactly _rude,_ coming from larger mammals," she offered, trying to paint it in the best light possible. "It's kind of pushy, but fine from someone we know well." She realized – too late – that the last part of her explanation could be taken in exactly the way they didn't want Catano to take it.

Nick seemed a little more prepared – probably by long experience. "Yeah. Now, see, I _could_ say I was just messing with Judy here, but if I do it'll just sound like a guilty denial. So you'll just have to take our word for it; that thing I know you're thinking is not what's going on here."

Catano considered this reply. It clearly came from a mammal familiar with awkward predicaments, so the confident delivery might have been an act. Judy's reaction to his statement, though… that rang true.

 _Shake it off, officer,_ she told herself, subduing her body language through old habit. Gestures could mean very different things from species to species or even family to family. A simple pat on the head… well, it didn't always mean what it had meant in her experience.

She pushed it to the back of her mind. "Alright. Let's go see about that reassignment."

* * *

The recordings were easy enough to get. All they had to do was find a quiet room down in the basement – where several were soundproofed for just such purposes – and pull the recordings up on the computer system. Catano also pulled up a file containing other officers' and detectives' notes on the recordings up to that point.

"Looks like the calls were pre-recorded," she observed. "They all have the same wording for each of the two messages."

"Which means they were probably recorded somewhere with as few clues as possible," Nick uttered dismally.

Judy frowned, deep in thought. "Maybe not," she ventured, standing up. She had taken a spot on the desk next to the computer, and now began running a paw down the list. "Catano, can you sort these by time stamp, please?"

Catano did, and Judy looked at the oldest one. "Let's take a look at this one," she suggested.

The cheetah shrugged and double-clicked the file.

" _Hello,"_ chimed a voice from the computer's speaker. _"_ _Zootopia News Net-"_

" _Hold your tongue,"_ instructed the familiar, distorted voice of Obearon. _"_ _Do not speak. I am called Obearon, and I am here to report that the Zootopia Police Department has just arrested one of my operatives; one of the self-same sheep involved in the recent Night Howler operation._

" _I must commend them for the execution of their trap, but I have some executing to do as well. This is to notify the press that for every blow struck against my operatives and their missions, I will retaliate with a blow against the city and its occupants. Goodbye."_

" _Wait, wait a minute!"_ protested the voice of whoever had answered the news hotline. _"_ _What operatives? What mission? Aw, crud!"_ In the silence that ended the call, they could hear the drone of an empty phone line.

Nick had been paying close attention to Judy throughout the call, monitoring each flick of her ears and twitch of her nose. As finely tuned as he knew his own senses were, he knew that she was the best in the room when it came to hearing – except, maybe, for Catano.

"You heard something, didn't you?" he asked confidently.

Judy nodded. "There's a program for splitting sound into multiple tracks, right?" she asked. "Words, background noise, and so on?"

Catano nodded, opening up the program in question and selecting the file. She ran it through, separating out the dialogue. "I'll turn down the speech and try to dial up the rest."

The resulting hum of background noise was muffled and indistinct, but Judy thought if she listened really hard she could make out some kind of clinking. _Loose change? No, it doesn't sound like metal._

"Did you hear plates or something?" she asked out loud.

Nick nodded. "I did – and it sounded like someone in the background might have been talking too. Something about 'iss.'"

Catano glanced at him. "I thought I might have heard a voice, but how did you pick up the 'iss' part?"

He shrugged. "Hissing's one of the easiest sounds to make out," was his answer. "And, uh..." he trailed off, deliberately not flicking his eyes towards the cheetah officer. "Well, you don't exactly spend thirty-two years as a fox without learning to pick up muted remarks."

It was pretty clear that Catano didn't completely buy Nick's dodge, but she decided not to argue. "Plates and maybe someone hissing. Alright. I'll play it back, and you two lift your paws when you hear those sounds."

They listened closely as their colleague – or Judy's, anyway – tinkered around with the recording. After about twenty minutes' of experimentation, they had gleaned a definite sound of clinking and a muffled "or eekass isk," whatever that was about.

"I haven't broken down many recordings like this one," Catano admitted, "but I think whoever was talking was in another room behind closed doors."

"Don't tell me," Nick uttered. Twenty minutes of struggling for information from an uncooperative recording had left him impatient and bored. "That means we're probably not going to get anything else out of this."

"Probably not," Catano agreed.

The fox slumped his chin onto his crossed forearms. "Great. So, now what?"

The cheetah glanced at the computer's clock and stood up. "Hopps and I go punch out, maybe grab some coffee, and we go question Lionheart." Turning to Nick, she added thoughtfully, "And we also need to figure out what to do with you."

Judy turned and stared up at her peer, dropping her ears back and frowning. "What do you mean?"

Catano shrugged. "Well, you and I can just go up to Lionheart Manor and ask to speak with him. Wilde, on the other hand, doesn't exactly have our level of access yet – and it would look pretty suspicious for him to just go in there with us."

It didn't help that she was – as usual – completely right. Chances were Nick knew some of the staff in the mansion, and he might very well have some useful ideas or insight. He sure had come in handy when they needed to get into that empty house, little use as that turned out to be. Getting him into Lionheart Manor, though, would be a definite challenge.

"I could try the old candygram bit," Nick ventured. Under the skeptical looks of the other two, he added, "Hey, I've delivered them before."

Behind a raised eyebrow, Officer Catano's brain clicked away as she filed that claim, simultaneously debating what to do with Nick. _He's been helpful,_ she admitted indifferently, _but he's also a loose end. Anyway, we shouldn't drag him around too much or Obearon might find out he's a potential weak link._

"I think you should go home," she advised at last.

"But-!" Judy protested, not sure how to finish.

"Hopps, I won't deny that Wilde's come in handy so far, but we can only rely so much on a civilian no matter how helpful he is." Softening a little, she added, "Besides, we don't need him on this part of the case, and I'm sure he has a life of his own to take care of. It's not like he's on the payroll yet."

Judy opened her mouth to argue, then realized Catano had a point. They'd asked a lot of Nick, and he did deserve some time of his own. Besides, without a badge he really didn't have much call to be on a visit like this.

She felt a paw drop lightly on her shoulder several times, and turned to see Nick's reassuring, confident smile.

"Don't let it bug you, Fluff. I've got to do my laundry and pay my bills sometime. Officer Catano," he called up, tilting his head back and tossing off a salute, "I will see you bright and early tomorrow."

* * *

Judy tried not to be annoyed as she and Catano drove to Makundi Heights, one of the ritziest parts of Savannah Central. The entire neighborhood was lined with mansions, mostly of sandstone with flat roofs and high arches stretching over their fronts. At least one in three had multiple statues or fountains, and pretty much all of them boasted elaborate gardens and topiaries. Judy's family had been pretty well-to-do, but the grandeur of the homes – even in consideration of their occupants – was more than she could wrap her brain around. Heck, some of the front yards could have held her elementary school and all its sports fields with room to spare.

"Who the heck can pay for places like these?" she asked.

"Mostly taxpayers and credit card companies," was Catano's grim answer.

Judy wondered if this was a reflection on the cheetah's view of politicians or just a literal answer. It seemed like the cheetah took a very cynical view of pretty much everything – and everyone, come to think of it.

 _I wonder if she was telling the whole truth about why she had Nick take a hike,_ she mused. It was clear enough that Chief Bogo took a dim view of foxes, and it would hardly be surprising if Catano felt the same. Still, hadn't Nick done enough to prove his reliability?

It occurred to her that she had posed the same question to Chief Bogo what felt like weeks ago, and gotten no satisfactory answer. On the other paw, Catano hadn't _proven_ a bias against foxes. Everything she'd said and done was backed by logic and utterly immovable, and she had even reckoned Nick's virtues into their case.

"I've noticed that you put a lot of focus on Mr. Wilde."

The remark came out of nowhere, causing Judy to jerk as she pulled out of her thoughts. "Come again?" she asked.

Catano glanced her way, but retained an attentive gaze on the road. "Your friend, Nicholas. You seem very determined to get him into law enforcement."

Judy felt a little defensive at this remark. "Well I _am_ very determined to get him into law enforcement."

Callie sighed – hardly enough to perceive, but it was a sigh. "Hopps, I have a great deal of respect for you, but I have to warn you: mixing police work and personal life… it's not a good idea. It can end badly."

There was something about that remark that made Judy uneasy. "It can also work pretty well," she argued. This elicited no response, so she pressed further. "You're not going to try to tell me that Nick shouldn't be a cop because he's my friend, are you?"

Catano said nothing; only braked abruptly to a near-stop and prodded the horn with a paw. "Figures," she uttered, abandoning the previous topic entirely.

Judy looked up and saw a giraffe up ahead, waving a sign on a pole that had to be nearly as long as its neck. Stretching a little, she saw that a whole crowd of mammals around the giraffe. The mob – mostly predators – had rallied on a sidewalk and were spilling out into the road.

The giraffe, spotting them, moved back to the sidewalk and scowled as Judy and Catano got out. His eyes widened when he saw Judy.

"Hey, it's Officer Hopps!"

At once a crowd of the mammals, all waving signs blaming Lionheart for his part in the recent fiasco (and some blaming him for the mess lock, stock, and barrel), crowded around the officers and their cruiser.

"Are you coming to arrest him?!" called a black bear.

"Book the creep! He locked up my brother!" yelled a tiger.

"Never mind your brother! He's the reason my daughter's in the hospital!" shouted a pangolin in reply.

Catano sighed, went around to the trunk, and drew out a bullhorn.

"Your attention, please," she said in the face of a hyena who was crowding her personal space. The hyena drew back, covering her ears as Catano continued to the crowd at large. "We're here to ask Lionheart some questions for everyone's safety. Now please let us do our job."

If that was supposed to mean "move aside," it didn't exactly pan out. The crowd continued to surround them as they tried to make their way towards the mansion. Judy practically had to hold onto the cheetah's tail, and Catano wasn't having much of an easier time. Judy tried not to look at the angry mammals – mostly predators – waving their signs and yelling for Lionheart to pack up and go somewhere else - pawcuffed if necessary. The suggested destinations were pretty varied, but Antarctica seemed pretty popular, along with Mars and the Black Hole of Cowcutta.

"Excuse me," Catano said tersely to a tiger in her way, "but I need to get through and you need to move your protest elsewhere."

The tiger seemed to take offense to this latter point. Judy didn't know it, but that had a lot to do with about six other officers delivering that same message earlier in the day. "Hey listen, Officer, we've got a right to peaceful assembly."

Catano snorted in reply. "Okay, play in traffic. Just say out of the yards."

Judy tried to screen out the noise of the crowd. Even if it was directed at someone she didn't particularly like, it reminded her a little too much of Gazelle's peace rally.

"If you want to grab my leg," Catano offered, turning to look down at her, "it would probably be a good way to keep together in the crowd."

It was a reasonable offer, and – if Judy wasn't mistaken – a pretty outgoing one too. Cheetahs, as a rule, didn't tend to like anything that hung on them or slowed them down in any way. All the same…

"No thanks. I can manage."

It felt like a year before they made their way out of the crowd, zigging and zagging through larger mammals. It occurred to Judy that, if Obearon wanted to launch another attack, this place would be perfect. Lots of mammals close together, mostly predators, mostly hard to tell apart at a glance, and all of them noisy. A single Night Howler dart could probably lead to over a dozen mammals maimed or worse before half the crowd knew what was going on. Who knew how many more might be trampled afterward?

She tapped Catano's leg, and the cheetah looked down quizzically.

"I need you to put me up on your shoulder as soon as we're between them and the mansion," she instructed. "And I'll need your bullhorn."

Catano put her ears back in confusion. "Why?" she asked.

"It's important." Part of the reason Judy didn't answer was that she thought explaining it might convince her not to do it.

The cheetah shrugged, and as soon as they were out in the open she dropped to one knee and laced her paws together. Judy bounced from them to the upraised knee to the cheetah's shoulder, steadying herself against Catano's head as the larger officer stood up.

"Take Lionheart back to jail!" someone in the crowd yelled. The whole rest of the group began chattering their agreement.

"Alright! Alright!" Judy called, waving her paws for silence.

Catano took a more direct approach. Everyone was so focused on Judy that they didn't even notice her extract an item from her belt.

"Cover your ears, Hopps," she instructed.

Judy had only enough time to see the object and heed the cheetah's advice before…

 _WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!_

A blast from an air horn could jolt just about anyone. Considering the sharper-than-average hearing of most of the protesters, the effect was even greater. In the silence that followed, Judy found the bullhorn held up near her face. She tried not to think about the last time she had spoken to a large crowd, and instead shut her eyes and focused on what she had to say.

"You have every right to assemble peaceably," she reminded them, "and frankly I'm not a fan of Lionheart either. Blasting him, though, isn't going to accomplish anything. We know what he did, he's been arrested, and we are watching him carefully while he's out on bail."

"Crooks like him shouldn't get bail!" someone shouted. Another uproar began, but when Catano quickly brought the bullhorn down and put the air horn behind it, they all stopped in a hurry and covered their ears. Judy couldn't see it from her perch, but the cheetah actually smirked at that before lending her the bullhorn again.

"I know you're upset, and frankly so am I. But this isn't a courtroom, and he's not on trial yet. When he is, the judge and jury will decide what happens, not us. We're just here to ask questions, put the crisis behind us, and make sure all of you can go about your lives."

No one spoke, which she supposed was a good thing.

"I know a lot of you have friends and family who were hurt by the recent scheme, and I know Lionheart did things that made that situation worse. But standing here angry won't help them. Please, if you can do something for them then go do it. Your protests have been heard, and Lionheart will face justice, but this isn't helping. And if you must protest, please at least go back to the sidewalk. Blocking traffic will only make things worse for everyone."

She made an end of speaking, not entirely sure where she had gotten all of that. She was glad she had, though. It seemed to have a lot better results than, 'Any one of you could be the next Regis Killrahb.' When she looked up at the crowd, many of them were glancing at one another uncertainly. On the outskirts, a few of them were drifting away toward cars parked alongside the road. In a few moments, the more stubborn ones were, at least, retreating to the sidewalk.

Catano lowered the bullhorn and glanced up at Judy out of the corner of her eye. "I'm guessing you want to come down now," she observed.

Judy gladly accepted the opportunity, and the cheetah lowered her to the ground. There seemed to be an odd look on the feline's face, and it took Judy a moment to place it.

"Not bad, Hopps," she uttered.

Catano was impressed.

Judy shrugged modestly, and for a moment almost forgot what she was even there for. Then she looked up at the fence and squared her shoulders. "Well," she said, "let's go have a talk with our ex-mayor."

Lionheart Manor was surrounded by a sandstone wall which was only waist-high to Catano but quite the hurdle to Officer Hopps. Surmounting this wall stood a wrought iron fence made in likeness of tall stalks of Savannah grass cris-crossing one another. Judy was no expert on metalworking, but based on the intricacy of the latticework and the crisp lines on the leaves, she had a feeling the fence alone had cost a fortune.

Catano seemed to read her expression. "The Lionhearts are a legacy of leaders," she remarked. "He's the sixth of his family to have been mayor, and rumor has it there was a king way back somewhere in his family tree." Frowning thoughtfully, she added, "Might be the last one to hold office, though, after everything that's happened."

"That would explain a lot," Judy admitted, trying not to think about that last part. She had to wonder what it would do to a mammal – or his kids, for that matter – to lose a career that had been in the family for decades; centuries, even. She reminded herself a little forcefully that he had illegally and unethically covered up a threat to public safety and imprisoned innocent predators. Still, it wasn't like he was as bad as Bellwether, was it?

 _Besides,_ a part of her realized, _without his Mammal Inclusion Initiative I never would have made it into the Academy._ Now _that_ was a bitter pill to swallow.

Catano must have noticed her misgivings. "Hopps," said the cheetah gravely, "if you want to sit this out, there's no harm in it. I know you must feel conflicted."

Judy shook her head. "No, I'll go," she answered firmly. "Come on. Which way's the gate?"

The cheetah looked around, pointed, and set off at a brisk power-walk. There was no one at the gate, but she pushed an intercom call button below a security camera.

In a few minutes a crisp female voice answered. "Who's there, please?"

"Officers Hopps and Catano from the ZPD," Catano replied, pushing the button. "We're here to ask Mr. Lionheart some questions."

There was a pause. "I can't see through the camera. Could you step to where I can see through the gate, please?"

Catano stepped to one side, and Judy followed, noting that the camera's protective dome was marred with cracks and chips as if someone had been throwing rocks at it. _Pretty likely,_ she reflected.

Though Judy couldn't spot anyone looking out from the mansion up the hill, apparently whoever it was could see them. "Thank you," called the intercom a moment later. "Please come in."

A buzzing sound came from the gate, and Judy pushed it open. It swung easily and then shut with a clang as soon as they were through.

Following her partner's lead, Judy made her way up a walkway of sandstone bricks arranged in complex patterns. They passed a pair of fountains, carved or molded in mirror images of one another, in the shapes of two dancing elephants. The figures, apparently classically inspired, boasted exaggeratedly long ears that flowed down to cover their bodies like some sort of togas or similar garb. A tennis court could be seen at the front of the mansion as well.

As the officers reached the front, one of the large double-doors opened to receive them. Inside stood an okapi; dark-pelted, taller than both of the officers put together, and dressed in a typical maid's uniform. Her uniform was a bit dusty, as though she had only just come from cleaning. She dipped in a bow and waved the two of them in.

"Good afternoon, officers," she greeted, eyeing them a bit uncertainly. Judy wondered if the maid thought they were there to arrest her boss – and whether she would consider that a good thing or a bad one.

"So Lionheart still has some of his house staff?" asked Catano, glancing around.

It was a rude question, but if the maid took any offense at it she hid it well. "Mister Lionheart is in the library with Mrs. Lionheart and a guest, if you'll kindly walk this way."

She escorted them through hallways which might have felt longer than they were, owing to the sheer size of them. Every passage and doorway looked wide enough that three elephants could walk down it side-by-side with no trouble. At length she stopped at a large pair of oak-paneled doors with well-polished brass handles. Voices could be heard from within, but none too clearly.

"You'll find him here," offered the maid, "but I should warn you that he's in a session with the missus at the moment."

"A session?" asked Judy, puzzled.

The maid nodded as she put a hoof on the door handle. "I'll ask if Mister Lionheart will see you, but-"

Anything else was cut off as soon as she opened the door. A sudden outburst emanated from the room with such force that, had it been a living thing, the doors might have been reduced to splinters.

"-saying that over and over!" shouted a female voice. "I'm sick of it!"

The maid cringed at the yelling and waved a hoof toward the doors. If she made any attempt to explain, it was lost in the more plaintive but equally loud reply.

"I'm saying it because it's the truth!" came the unmistakable voice of former mayor Lionheart. "I was trying to protect the city. To protect _us!_ "

"Oh, and that worked out _really_ well," his wife carped – for of course she was the other voice. "We've got protesters outside, our son is getting beaten up at school…!"

Judy's stomach lurched. She'd known that the former mayor had a family; that had historically been one of his selling points as a politician. She still remembered the talk that had gone on about the Lionhearts getting a pet water monitor. She hadn't really thought about the impact his exposure and arrest would have on his private life or those around him… until now.

 _That kind of harassment just because of what he did…_ she thought, twisting up inside at the thought of an innocent cub being pounded at school for his father's sins. It was way too much like what had happened to Nick for being a fox. _No one should have to go through that._

"Mrs. Lionheart, please," another voice interjected. Judy hadn't heard this one before, but it was low and had a slight rasp to it that made her think of a jazz singer she'd heard once – or maybe it was blues.

"I know things aren't going like they should – and your husband has _definitely_ made some mistakes," the speaker added pointedly as he went on. "But I guarantee you that filing for divorce is not going to solve any of it."

"Exactly," Leodore pressed. "This is only a temporary situation. If I can just-"

"Just _what?"_ his wife demanded. "You're washed up in politics, your reputation is nothing, and you could go to prison for what you did. How exactly are we going to make ends meet when we can't even afford to live here anymore?!"

"Well, I'll… I'll…"

It was rare for Leodore Lionheart to be at a loss for words, but now he was.

The unknown speaker stepped in again. "I think you two should give that question some more thought – especially since we're almost out of time. Would you like to pray before we-"

"I am _not_ in a praying mood," snapped Mrs. Lionheart. Her voice had quieted from a roar to a loud rumble, but she left no room for debate.

After a pause, the unknown party said – in a tone implying a sigh unheard through the door – "Alright, but I will be praying for you. Shall we meet this time on…" he must have checked a calendar. "Thursday?"

"I'm not going anywhere," said Leodore, trying to put a bold face on being, for all purposes, under house arrest.

His wife still sounded like her expression could kill flies. " _My_ time's freed up quite a bit lately," she snapped.

"Alright," said the counselor. "Then please, try to work things out in the meantime and come up with _some_ way to make ends meet."

By the brief silence, the investigators could just imagine the leonine couple looking uncertainly at one another. At last, there came a sigh.

"I'll try," Mrs. Lionheart promised. "For our son's sake, if not for his."

"So will I," proclaimed Leodore, diplomatically skipping over his wife's last shot. "We'll figure something out; I promise."

There was no missing a mutter of, "And we all know how good your promises are," from his wife.

Their counselor sighed, clearly feeling that the response – while understandable – was not helping matters. "Alright," he said.

There was a flapping sound which surprised Judy, although Catano seemed less taken aback. A moment later, a bat surprisingly similar to Nick flew through the doorway and braked sharply in the air at the sight of them.

"Sorry!" he blurted, dropping to the floor. "I didn't realize there was anyone out here."

Catano took the bat's surprise in stride. "We're here to speak with Mr. Lionheart."

The bat stepped sideways around them, noting Judy with obvious recognition but saying nothing. Now that he was more or less at her level, she could see that he was the herbivorous kind of bat known as a Giant Flying Fox. His head, neck, and wings were dark gray, and his clothes were of a peculiar design. The top part was like the collar of a polo shirt grafted onto the body of a poncho, and it buttoned onto a pair of pants which, baggy as they were to allow for his tail, clearly needed help to stay on. He dipped his head politely and shrugged, he extending a wing toward the doorway. "I suggest you try to avoid the missus," he whispered. "Things are a little, well, strained right now, if you see what I mean, and seeing uniforms… well, I suggest you try to catch Mr. Lionheart alone." So saying, he flew off down the hall.

Hopes of heeding his advice quickly disintegrated as the lioness, dressed in a gray and severe business dress, came out and stopped at the sight of them. After a momentary pause to take in the two officers – and frown at Judy – she simply said, "You must be here for Leodore." She looked as if she wanted to say something in her husband's defense, but then after a moment she stiffened her body and firmed her expression, throwing back her ears with decision. "Help yourselves."

Catano huffed and folded her arms as Mrs. Lionheart stalked off. "This is exactly the sort of reason why I don't date," she muttered when the lioness was out of earshot. _At least one sort of reason,_ she added mentally. Then she waved a paw, signaling that she and Judy should enter the library. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

Ex-Mayor Lionheart sat dejectedly in one of a cluster of red velvet arm chairs in the middle of a sizable library. The furnishings, as in the rest of the mansion, were expensive but not tackily so; exotic plants in patterned earthenware jars, several busts of similar-looking lions (no doubt his ancestors), and a stunning abundance of books both on the shelves and on five or six tables spread around the room. Large windows flanked by curtains fit for any theater let in the sun, but the mood in the room felt dim and dismal.

That was partially due, no doubt, to the look on the lion's face. As mentioned, he was dejected. His once-proud shoulders slumped, his face was long, and his eyes had the look of one longing to awaken from a nightmare. His mane, while combed into a respectable condition, did not look nearly as impressive as usual. It had less body, and more hairs out of place, as if perhaps he had taken less time grooming it than usual and then lost that saved time in running his paws through it in despair. This was, actually, a pretty fair description of what he had been doing lately. Up to that point, Judy had reserved most of her sympathy for the lion's family. At this sight, however, she actually found herself feeling sorry for _him._ She also felt guilty for listening in, though she certainly hadn't gone looking to do it.

He glanced up before Judy or Catano said anything, and then for a long moment no one said anything.

"Officers," he greeted at last.

Catano set a paw on the doorknob. "Mr. Lionheart, we have some questions."

"Of course," he answered, standing up and gesturing to a pair of chairs remaining in a rough circle with his own from the counseling. Even at his lowest, he seemed resolved to save face and play the courteous host.

Catano went and sat in the larger of the two chairs – no doubt the one used by Mrs. Lionheart moments ago – while Judy took the bat's. A small table stood between the three of them, and a pitcher of water stood by two glasses mostly full and another that was empty.

"Would you like some water?" asked Lionheart. "I can call for fresh glasses."

Catano shook her head. "I'm fine, thanks."

Judy nodded her agreement. "Yeah, I'm… not so thirsty right now."

The lion made no argument, and sat down himself. He did his best to maintain an image of calm seriousness, but no one who looked well to his eyes could miss the helplessness within. If one looked closely they might even see hints of dark circles under those eyes, bespeaking of long and sleepless nights.

"What can I tell you?" he asked, twining his fingers together.

It was just as well that Catano did most of the questioning. Judy had no qualms about facing down Lionheart, or calling him out on his past actions, but seeing what had happened threw a whole new light on… well, everything. It wasn't just the thought of Mrs. Lionheart or the cub having to suffer for the things ex-mayor Lionheart had done. If it had been that simple, she could have just been more upset with Leodore. No, there was something else in the picture, though she tried not to bring it into account.

Judy didn't talk about it much, but some years ago one of her brothers had gone through a divorce when his wife decided she wanted to see other bucks. The proceedings had echoed through the Hopps clan for two awful years as he tried and tried to win her back or block the process. His ultimate defeat had left him a shell of his former self. Granted, Lionheart had actually earned his wife's displeasure, but the look in his eyes – hidden as it was – was too painfully familiar.

Despite the turmoil of his life, Lionheart bore the questioning with the polish of a seasoned politician. Perhaps he did so out of remorse over not having told the truth sooner. It might have also been that he was grieved at the failure of his past efforts. Possibly he simply understood that to be as useful to the police as he could was the only chance he had of salvaging the tattered remnants of his good name. Whatever the case, his voice never cracked and his hesitations over answers were rare.

Unfortunately, none of those answers were much help. No, he had no idea who Obearon might be. Obviously an absolute maniac, and (at Catano's prompting) probably someone who knew Bellwether, but that didn't say much. He had to admit he knew very little about his former assistant's social life. For several months before the predators started disappearing the sheep had seemed to cultivate that, obviously (in hindsight) to hide her plot. Yes, he knew Regis Killrahb. He was pretty sure they were second cousins or something of the kind. He had always known the maneless lion to be an excellent businessmammal, an involved citizen, and a diligent voter. There was no reason that he could see – except to cause the most chaos and disquiet, of course – that anyone would dart Killrahb. He knew Poisson, and was a little surprised that they were investigating the skunk. He freely admitted that he had been to a number of her parties, and every aspect of them had been, if micro-managed, certainly so handled to perfection. He knew, by his account, nothing of her business affairs – certainly not her investment practices. She was always quick to extol her family's history, but didn't say much about her upcoming business developments in any detail (not that he paid much attention).

"I suppose she's a bit secretive," he allowed, spreading his paws, "but what businessmammal isn't now and then? It's how you make a buck; don't let the competition know what you're up to."

 _And you know all about being secretive, don't you?_ thought Judy, though she wasn't sure she had the heart for it now.

"What about her support of your campaigns?" asked Catano. "And the Mammal Inclusion Initiative? Can you tell us anything about that?"

He shrugged. "Not much that can help you," he admitted. "She supported it for quite a while, but then she got furious when the city council decided to add some options for skunks."

Judy had spent most of the session alternately trying to focus on the task at paw and thinking about the impact this was having on the ex-mayor and his family. This last, however, pulled her mind thoroughly back to the case. "Wait a minute," she objected. "That doesn't make sense. She's a skunk. What kind of options for skunks would she oppose?"

"That's what I said," he agreed, lifting his shoulders and paws in a helpless shrug. "It was a special option specifically for mustellids, but she called it barbaric and unnatural."

Canato got the ages-old look in her eyes of a hunter catching sight of their target. "What exactly was her objection?" she asked.

Lionheart frowned for a moment. "Let's see; she was upset that we decided to allow assistance for mustellids who wanted to have their musk glands removed."

That gave them all something to pause over. Practically all mammal species had some kind of scent glands, mainly designed for conveying information about health, mood, and so on. Mustellids, however – skunks, weasels, wolverines, and even otters, to name a few – had specialized musk glands which produced an especially noxious liquid. In skunks and wolverines particularly, these glands were basically weaponized. However, they saw little if any use in modern times, and mostly just made the mammals so endowed rather unpopular. This, and sometimes the personal preferences of the mammals themselves, made surgical alteration rather popular among those who could afford it.

"So she doesn't want skunks – well, mustellids – to have their scent glands removed?" asked Judy.

Lionheart nodded. "She said it was a crime against nature to encourage any mammal to give up a part of their body to be more socially acceptable. Said it was as bad as declawing."

That actually seemed to make even Catano flinch – or at least widen her eyes and flick her ears. Declawing – usually done to predators – was a punishment so severe that many considered it immoral even for violent offenders. During the protests under Bellwether, a lot of prey mammals and even some predators had advocated declawing policies.

"What did you say to the objections?" asked Catano.

"Well at first I let Bellwether handle it," he admitted, spreading his paws. "She'd gotten along fine with Miss Poisson when I was organizing my campaigns."

Both officers exchanged a significant look. _The theater._ "And then what?" asked Judy.

He turned his paws pads-up. "Well, I tried to talk to her about it; told her no one would be forcing skunks to de-scent. She just wouldn't see it, though, and in the end I lost her support for my next mayoral run."

Catano shook her head at this logic, in light of the recent fiasco. No one had asked her opinion about voluntary declawing during the Bellwether conspiracy, and she probably wouldn't have said much anyway. However, her frank thought on the matter had been that any mammal who let themselves be mutilated like that would only make mandatory declawing seem more reasonable later on.

"Can you tell us anything else that might be useful?" she asked.

Lionheart sighed and rose from his chair, pacing to the window. Behind his back, he clenched one paw into a fist and wrapped the other around the wrist of the first. "I wish I knew something that might be useful," he said, gazing out the back window. "I really can't think of anything right now except what a mess everything's turning into."

Judy usually wasn't the inquisitive type. Yet something in Lionheart's demeanor – perhaps the sag of his shoulders or the droop of his ears – drew her out of her chair to the window where he stood.

Following his gaze, she looked out over a sizable pool in the back yard, lying languid in the shadow of the mansion. Leaves and debris on the surface testified that it had not been properly cleaned in the last day or two, but that wasn't what held her attention.

Next to the pool, where a diving board would usually be, was a large slab of stone which seemed to be propped on a few others, both for sunning and jumping into the pool. Sitting on the rock with hunched shoulders, looking out over the pool, was a teenage lion. His mane was half-grown and unkempt, and his arms – as far as Judy could tell – were crossed with the paws hanging on his upraised knees.

Judy knew without asking who this was. It had to be Lionheart's kid; the one getting beaten up because of his father's actions. With this realization, Judy couldn't help looking up at the former mayor, who simply stared down at his son and said nothing. He did notice her at one point, but only cast the officer a rueful expression and continued to observe Leodore Jr.

The only further question Catano had was what else Lionheart could tell them about any conversations between Poisson and Bellwether.

"I don't know," admitted the lion, turning back to his interrogator. "I know they used to talk quite a bit, but after the argument with Poisson I was too busy to pay much attention to Bellwether."

"And when was that?"

"About… oh, two, two and a half years ago."

Judy was almost too preoccupied to catch the date, but when she did it stopped her cold.

Based on all the ZPD had learned, Bellwether had been working on her plot for about that same length of time.

 **A recent conversation with Berserker88 got me thinking – well, thinking again – about human culture translating into Zootopia. The bit with Nick patting Judy on the head was an example; obviously in the previous chapter it was meant and received as a playful act of teasing. In a world as varied as Zootopia, though, it's easy to imagine that a gesture might mean very different things to different mammals. To give a human example, patting someone on the head or even giving them a noogie is just fine in, say, the (human) USA. However, there are other cultures where it's taken a lot more seriously. I remember reading about one culture (somewhere in Africa, I think) where the head is considered so sacred that any contact with someone's scalp – even a child's – is treated as practically blasphemous. In Catano's case, she apparently took it and the banter going with it in a different light, though why she would do so is a mystery I'll not get into just yet.**

 **Choosing a pet for the Lionhearts was actually kind of interesting. I am not entirely sure how pets would translate into Zootopia, except that they would probably be more contained. You would have birds, of course, which are usually caged or pinioned anyway, and in a world with mouse citizens even a relatively small pet snake or lizard could potentially eat one's friends or neighbors if not carefully watched (see the trouble with cats and falcons in the Stuart Little movies).** **I ultimately settled on alligator monitor lizards, which are relatives of the famous Komodo Dragons and can grow up to eight feet long. It turns out that these particular reptiles are in fact legal as pets in California, with which the coordinates of Zootopia coincide.**

 **The marriage counselor who was trying to help the Lionhearts work out their woes is a character I actually planned to introduce later, but this scene actually seemed to be asking for him early. I had already planned to make him a flying fox bat (as seen in the book and movie** **Stellaluna** **), and with the prey-versus-predator and other contrasts it brings to the table, I don't think I could have planned it better. Flying foxes, for those not in the know, eat fruit, not insects - and yes, they really do look like flying foxes. They are especially cute as babies; just ask YouTube. I recently had the opportunity to see some live and in person on a trip to the zoo with my girlfriend, and it was thoroughly enjoyable. Designing the bat's clothes was a challenge I'd been working on for some months, since a bat's wing and tail membranes would make it next to impossible for them to wear anything close to normal clothing.**

 **I was actually pretty surprised by how this chapter unfolded with the Lionhearts. I admit that when watching the movie I never saw Leodore as a particularly sympathetic character, but when I got to working on his family life it just kind of whopped me over the head. Having witnessed a marriage falling apart and known one or two people rattled by divorces, it's hard for me to write about one in the making without my insides knotting up. Rest assured, I'll reach some kind of resolution about that issue later on in my material.**

 **Concerning the issue of declawing and descenting in the world of Zootopia, I'm sure any number of readers will interpret that their own ways. As it concerns the real world, I'm opposed to declawing cats as a rule (even when my own cat tries, in his affection, to perforate my arms or stomach). Others have covered the matter of just what declawing does to a cat, so I won't get into the physiological details. In a context where skunks and felines were clearly human-level, I would probably side with both Poisson and Catano. In general I'm hardly ever in favor of unnecessary or non-restorative surgery with humans or animals, although I do support fixing pets... and I would probably de-scent a pet skunk if I had one. Whether that's inconsistent, you'll have to decide for yourselves.**

 **And on one final note, I just wanted to share a bit of good news. After over a year of ill will, I finally got back on speaking terms with an old friend. I don't want to get into specifics – for obvious reasons – and we're not quite where we used to be, but at least we're talking again.**

 **Easter Egg Answers:**

 **Chapter Seven: The reference to dinosaurs from Pizza Hop** is a nod to the collection of dinosaur puppets released by Pizza Hut when the movie _The Land Before Time_ was released. Don't feel too bad if you didn't guess this one; the puppets are (as I understand it) quite obscure in general. Still, if you break down the movie it seems like one Judy would have liked growing up; she and Littlefoot actually have a lot in common. **The twist about her unexpectedly finding the key in her pocket** is a nod to Bilbo unintentionally making "What have I got in my pocket?" his winning riddle against Gollum in _The Hobbit._ I was hoping that directing readers to the whimsical quote at the beginning would make that easier, but alas it was, all too fittingly, not a fair riddle.

 **Chapter Nine: Taelia's wardrobe** is directly inspired by the closet from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis, right down to being made of apple wood (though that detail about Lewis' wardrobe was not revealed until The Magician's Nephew). I added the idea of it being of rustic make since I am partial to such furniture, and suspect that it would be very popular in the part of Zootopia where Taelia grew up. **On the way to the concert, Taelia thinks to herself, 'Face it, Taelia; you just hit the jackpot,'** a modification of a line from Spider-Man's squeeze Mary Jane: "Face it tiger, you just hit the jackpot.' I'm having trouble placing the other Easter Egg in her assessment of Nick, except for one or two possible ones so vague they shouldn't count. I really need to stop doing that. **The remark from her inner extrovert about "returning to the past now"** is a reference to Code Lyoko, which is also where I got her name ("Taelia" is an anagram of "Aelita," one of the main characters, and also the name of a one-off character from the cartoons). **Nick's cookie fortune** is borrowed from the Disney live-action movie _Sky High,_ one of their more underrated works in my opinion. **Taelia's thought just before that, 'It's better than a dream'** echoes a lyric heard in _Lady and the Tramp 2_. As an added bonus, while I was revising the chapter I added in photos of Xavier Moonbeamer's father, who will provide something of a musical Easter Egg later.

 **As for the Moonbeamers' name,** that's an obscure one, though I made it as clear as I could with the note about American history. On September 11, 2001, a group of passengers fought back against hijackers and managed to reduce the body count of a major terrorist attack, albeit at the cost of their lives. I put the name Moonbeamer in out of respect to one of them: Todd Beamer, who became famous for the literal famous last words, "Let's roll."

 **Let's just hope Xavier Moonbeamer won't follow his namesake's fate. Of course, the only way to find out is to keep reading - and while you're at it... well, you already know what I'd like you all to do.**

 **By the way, one reason I've been a bit less active on here is that I'm posting these chapters on Archive of Our Own now, and when I get to it I hope to put them on DA as well. Once those sites - or at least AO3 - catch up, my pacing should improve. (EDIT: I will still be posting on here. My thanks to dispix for raising that question in case anyone else wondered) Also, in as much as the rules on those sites allow, I mean to post the song lyrics which were originally part of chapter nine as well.**


	27. Twenty-Seven: Slippery Slope of Nope

Quick shout-out to the first Guest reviewer on Chapter 26: Thanks for your feedback on Nick and Taelia. I'll answer you in a little more detail at the end, but I guess it's worth explaining now that Taelia probably chose to have the previous date play out like it did on purpose. In part, I suspect she wanted to get a feel for who Nick was by seeing how her friends and particularly Xavier reacted to him before she committed too much to him (emotionally speaking). This last's opinion would be especially useful since, as they say, "Men know men." If you look back at chapter ten, I hinted at Taelia's reasons for this. However, I'd been meaning to step things up between her and Nick a bit, so your timing worked out pretty well.

Also, decided to change Taelia's last name to Fangaster. Will be revising past chapters accordingly.

" **Then," said James, "You don't hold with that saying, 'Everyone look after himself and take care of number one'?"**

" **No indeed," said John. "Where should I and (my sister) be if Master and Mistress and old Norman had only taken care of number one?... Where would Black Beauty and Ginger be if you had only thought of number one?... No, Jim, no. That is a selfish, heathenish saying, whoever uses it… That's what I think."**

 **Black Beauty** **by Anna Sewell**

Mammals had many ways of unwinding after a long day. Some favored a hot shower or a long bath. Others liked listening to music. A growing number advocated yoga.

Not many mammals subscribed to Officer Catano's recipe for an end-of-the-day detox: beating the skins off of punching bags. An hour after the interview with Lionheart, she was in Precinct One's expansive gym, lost in a succession of what martial artists called combinations. _Straight-arm, hook, roundhouse kick, hook. Hook, three jabs, tornado kick. Grab, knee, hook, elbow jab._ It was almost like dancing, but with more of an actual purpose.

Still, cheetahs had to rest sometime. With a sigh, she sagged onto a bench and took a long drink of water which she broke off only to gasp and pant. Cheetahs had limited stamina as a rule, but it was incredible how much they could do in just five minutes – and Catano was never one to waste the downtime either. As she caught her breath and let her temperature return to normal, her eyes moved by habit to a book propped open on one of the weight machines. The pages showed detailed charts of a male and a female rhinoceros, highlighting critical weak spots in each one's anatomy: joints, nerves, even vulnerabilities in their centers of gravity and places they couldn't reach on their backs. This type of analysis was an old skill, almost a hereditary one born of the mingling of her father's athletic skill and her mother's sharpshooting.

"Callie? Is that you?"

She turned and looked to see a familiar lion standing in the doorway. Looking a little surprised, he propped his wrists on his hips. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Delgato," she greeted.

He strolled casually into the room, clad in a muscle shirt and biker shorts that brought out his physique to considerably more advantage than his uniform did. This was probably not an accident, as during her time on the day shift Catano had noticed Delgato was rather vain. He was rather attractive as his kind went, and as much of a pretty boy as a cop could be without also being a pansy about the job's inevitable messiness. He proceeded to plunk himself down in an overhead lift machine, set the weights to a prodigious level, and begin a succession of lifts.

"Hey, I'm meeting some of the other officers for a few drinks later," he mentioned between lifts. "You want to come hang out for a while?"

Catano sighed. Part of the reason she had switched to the night shift was that it gave her a handy excuse not to get involved in socializing with her co-workers. Much as she prided herself on ensuring the safety of those officers who worked alongside her, she made it a rule to avoid getting too attached. Attachment led to dependency, and dependency inevitably led to trouble.

Besides, she suspected that Delgato had a thing for her, and she couldn't have that. Even with their being on different shifts, it was a bad idea all around. Too unprofessional and much too risky. Besides, she was pretty sure he wasn't her type. She didn't know what her type _was,_ to be honest, but she didn't think it was him.

"No, but thanks for the offer," she said in a bored, distant tone ideal for dissuading further inquiry. Then she rose to her feet and made for her treadmill – a machine which, even under the best maintenance, was noisy enough to ensure no workable conversation.

Fight and run. Run and fight. That pretty much summed up Catano's existence one way or another; being quick enough to pull someone out of harm's way or good enough to keep the harm at arm's length. Even interrogations, for the most part, were a kind of combat, albeit a more chess-like form. Nothing else mattered to Officer Catano. Nothing else _fit_ in the world of Callie Catano.

Nothing else had really fit in her world since she was eight.

* * *

About the time that was going on, Nick Wilde was struggling with a familiar drawback of a high IQ: terminal boredom. Despite what he had said to Judy about needing time to take care of his laundry and pay his bills, he really wasn't all that busy. Trip to the laundromat: hour and a half. Catching up with Finnick and his other lines in the water: half an hour, mostly from the laundromat. Dinner: Ten minutes, counting the eating time. That left some loooong hours still to be filled, and aside from seeing a pig groan in frustration as he drew a white shirt splotched with pink and blue out of the washing machine (and then hasten to hide whatever had contributed the colors), nothing interesting was going on.

At least, not until a text came through from Taelia while he was chilling on his couch. Nothing major; just a smile and a _'Hope your day's going well.'_

 _Oh, yeah, having a blast,_ he thought to himself. He typed in a message to reply, though. She was a supporter after all, and besides, he needed something to occupy his time.

' _Yeah. Hopps & co still chasing leads, gave me afternoon off.' _As an afterthought, he added, _'What you doing?'_

It was a couple of minutes and two more outgoing texts acknowledging reports of dead ends before she answered. _'Not much. Pretty ho-hum, really. Might jog around... if nothing comes up.'_

Nick noted the '...' with interest. The question of what she was up to had been more than casual inquiry on his part. Though he was hardly an etiquette major, experience – both good and bad – had taught him that asking a girl out on a spur of the moment date was a faux pas best avoided. A general question about her schedule, though, was a good, safe way to probe without looking like he had a definite plan. Whether Taelia had guessed that or not, he suspected that those three little dots were a hint saying he was onto something. Not as strong a hint as a wink would have been, but a hint none the less.

Forgetting for the moment the minor misgivings he'd had with their last date, he fired off another message. _'Want to go do something? Maybe a movie?'_

Her reply was a few minutes in coming. _'Sounds good. Need to take care of a few things, but you can pick me up at 8.'_

Nick smiled. Sometimes getting shuffled off to the sidelines had its perks. _'Sure thing. Got any preferences?'_

* * *

Standing in front of her wardrobe again a couple of hours after the messages with Nick, Taelia mused over her options. One considerable advantage this date offered was that, in addition to having her laundry done, she didn't have to worry about working in whatever she wore. Eschewing more everyday attire, she pawed her way back and forth through the dresses like an indecisive chef leafing through a cook book.

 _I haven't worn this one in a while,_ she thought, examining a red party dress. She drew it out and held it at arm's length, then slipped it on to try the fit. To her satisfaction, she found that it still fit her just fine and did a nice job of complimenting her figure; slim and showy, but not atrociously so. The skirt displayed some pretty nice leg, and the neckline and shoulders were likely to draw Nick's eyes. A blue lightweight jacket would pair nicely with it if she got chilled - or if she just got cold feet.

She debated whether to pair up a scent with it or just go, showered as she was with some deodorant. Part of her – in the familiar introvert-versus-extrovert conflict – recommended wearing a perfume that would excite Nick a little. Another part argued in favor of her natural scent, pointing out that she wanted Nick to like her for _her,_ not her aromatics. The latter might have won it at that, but went on to suggest 'playing it safe.'

At that she paused to think it over in a new light. _Playing it safe?_ she thought. _What's that supposed to mean?_ To some extent she even hated herself for thinking it. She trusted Nick. Why shouldn't she enjoy herself with him that night?

Before she could change her mind, she went to the bathroom and picked out a perfume with a sharp, slightly mischievous spike to it which she hadn't used in a long time. Administering the sweet, spicy fragrance, she rubbed it into her fur and then rubbed her paws together.

 _Life's too short to spend cringing,_ she mused. At any rate, _she_ was darn tired of it. Then a smile came to her lips as she thought, _Besides, those other guys were jerks. Nick's totally different. It's not like a scent could_ make _a guy do something he'd regret, right?_

That night when Nick picked Taelia up, he almost wondered for a moment if she had a twin sister. Granted, he had seen and dated fancier females, but she was definitely showing another side of herself. The scent of her perfume made a marked change from the previous occasion; probably a lot more marked than she realized.

"Wow," he said, being careful not to look too obviously. He suddenly felt under-dressed, having simply showered and – as was his habit – grabbed his clothes with little attention to occasion. He was wearing a dark blue Pawaiian shirt this time, decorated with white blossoms and olive green dragons, and pants pretty much identical to most of the other pairs he owned.

 _I wonder where she thinks we're going,_ he thought, wishing he'd been more specific about his plans. Like intelligence, a fondness for surprising mammals could have its drawbacks. Hoping to ease into it, he asked, "Ready for the movie?"

She nodded, picked up her purse, and stepped out, locking up before she slipped her arm into his. The contact lightened his spirits a little as he walked her out to his car.

"Hope you don't mind the size," he offered with a shrug, catching her glancing around the interior. The car was definitely smaller than hers, though stylish in other respects.

She smiled and waved a paw, dismissing the matter. "It's okay," she replied. "So, did you have a particular movie in mind?"

Nick had considered a good drive-in in Tundratown, as it was his experience that cold made ladies more inclined to snuggle. Conveniently, the bug-out bag in his trunk had a fleece blanket which, if needed, could be just as handy for cold dates. On the other paw, Taelia was lightly dressed enough to spoil the mood, and somehow his gut instinct had warned him that it would be a bit soon to expect her to snuggle under a blanket, however innocently. She didn't seem that forward.

Fortunately, there were other places with the same movie. "Legend of Pyro," he replied. "It's playing at Date Palm Drive-In."

"Hmm, the movie sounds good," Taelia agreed. She had told Nick she liked a good mix of action and romance, and he had apparently guessed without her saying it that fantasy was also on her menu. "Haven't heard of the place, though. What's it like?"

"Biggest slushies in the city, and fans at every station. I hear it's perfect for hot dates."

Taelia rolled her eyes. "I see what you did there," she replied, doing her best to read his tone and body language. She got the impression that he was being casual and jocular enough to allay any suspicions she might otherwise have about double-meanings.

The drive-in, when they got there, was exactly as Nick had promised. The slushies were huge and came in sixteen different flavors, of which Nick picked blueberry while Taelia chose a blend of cherry and root beer. Armed with those and a pair of cold bug loaf sandwiches, they took advantage of their vehicle's small size and parked close to the front, right behind the rodent area.

"And would madame like the top down?" Nick asked winsomely.

She nodded, taking a sip of her drink. "Yes please."

The last time Nick went to a drive-in – which had been quite a while, really – some feline cub had stolen the show by climbing up onto a ledge in pursuit of a moth. Since the ledge had been somewhere between the screen and the projector, an otherwise boring love scene had been livened up by a visit from Cat Kong. This time, nothing so remarkable happened, so although the show was interesting enough in its own right, Nick decided to put his charm skills through their paces.

As the movie played, Nick kept glancing at Taelia and smiling, motioning with his head for her to feel free to scoot over his way. She demurred at first, more because she liked seeing him try than because she was reluctant. In response, he pulled out his phone and let her catch him looking at the shot of them on the park bench. That was enough to sway her, and she slid across the seat close enough to conveniently hold paws. A few more subtle hints coaxed her snug up against him, now sans-jacket and looking decidedly appealing in the light of the movie screen with the fan blowing her fur.

Alone in the car, the movie's explosions and chase scenes faded into the background as she tucked her head into the crook of his neck. He responded by putting an arm around her, feeling surrounded and permeated by the scent of her perfume. Half-drumming, half-stroking his fingers on her side, he mused on his chances of stealing a kiss that night. _Probably two in three,_ he figured. He idly wondered if he'd have a shot at coaxing her into the back seat, though several good reasons ruled that out. For one thing, he'd never been one to pull stunts like that, even in his old line of work. Besides, he wasn't that interested in gambling his standing with Taelia for a joke.

As it turned out, he wouldn't have had much of a shot at it anyway, especially not that night. Taelia had been enjoying the light massaging sensation of his fingers… at first. As she sat there propped against him though, a different sensation crept through her. It wasn't a physical sense – not even the not-touching-prickle of a body part falling asleep. She thought, rather than really felt, something as unnerving as if hundreds of ants were slowly making their way up her body, starting at the place where Nick's paw was on her side.

 _Oh, come on,_ she thought, partly anxious and partly exasperated. _Don't do this now. Not now._

She tried to concentrate on her own cozying up as a way to block out the unwelcome nuisance, and found some relief in that – for a moment. After a minute or two, though, it started to come back.

 _Stop it,_ she thought again. _He's not_ doing _anything._

She wanted to stay put; she really did. She hadn't felt this secure with a guy in what felt like forever. Yet the sensation grew stronger, and it was spreading. Over to her spine it traveled, and then up until she could feel a sense of disquiet almost buzzing in the back of her head.

 _Please, stop doing this._

It was almost as if the whole thing had become some outside entity, and if she had lived in a bygone era she might have even chalked it up to some fiend needling her out of spite. She would even look back later and recall thinking, _Leave me alone already._

At last she could take it no longer. She pulled herself away and drew a puzzled look from Nick.

"Sorry," she offered weakly. "I just need to, um…" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder.

"Oh, sure," said Nick, nodding in oblivious acceptance. "But it's the other way; next to the snack bar."

She smiled, doing her best to hide the sadness inside. "Thanks. You want me to bring anything back while I'm up?"

He declined the offer, and she strode off with a sick feeling in her stomach. She hadn't felt that tingle since… well, she didn't like to think about the last time she had felt it. The last time she had that reaction to cuddling with a guy, she'd _known_ there was something fishy. She had tried to brush it off, but she _had_ a reason to want away from him. She'd just been stupid; stupid enough to stay with him because she didn't want to break up.

This was _nothing_ like that, she told herself. She'd seen nothing but good from Nick so far. Nil. Diddly. Squat. She didn't doubt him, and he didn't deserve to be doubted.

' _That's what you thought before,'_ pressed a dismissive voice. _'That's what you always thought before.'_

She raced on, telling herself that it was because now she really _did_ need the bathroom and not because she was trying to escape her unseen tormentor. She went about her business, washed her paws, and lightly slapped her face as one who is trying to wake herself up. Then she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, concentrating on the good memories she had so far of Nick: his hopes of becoming a police officer, and the way they had met backing it up. His gentlemanly – if fumbled – behavior in Chez Cheese. The way her band mates had taken to him. The side-hug and selfie shoot on the park bench.

"I trust him," she said at last, opening her eyes and looking in the mirror. The assured gaze in the glass bolstered her confidence, and the corners of her mouth lifted. With a lighter step she went back to the car, greeting Nick with a small but genuine smile as she slipped back into the seat and resumed her position next to him.

"Miss me?" he asked with a grin, not quite noticing that she settled in a little more gingerly this time.

 _Only since before I met you,_ she thought. She said nothing, but drew her tail over both their laps. This surprised Nick at first, but not enough to put him off. With an inward shrug, he slipped his arm back around her waist and leaned his head on top of hers. This time, for no particular reason, he left off the finger massage – and much to Taelia's relief, the tingling did not come back in any noticeable degree.

 _No more looking back,_ she told herself happily. _Only ahead._

* * *

Alas, looking ahead was not so bright for every mammal in the city that night. Leodore Lionheart hunched over his desk, slowly going cross-eyed from staring at paperwork. He'd been filling out forms for the last two hours, give or take two _weeks,_ and his wrist was definitely feeling it. His actions, in addition to criminal charges, had drawn a number of lawsuits which, even in the unlikely event that not all of them went through, were apt to bury him in court costs alone. Now he was reaping the consequences, and cursing himself for not having better laid out his savings plan or said no to a vacation or two a year to lay money aside for a rainy day. Of course he'd never meant to get into a mess like this, but it was still stupid of him.

Surrendering to the stiffness in his wrist at last, he slapped the pen flat down on the scattered papers, pushed back his chair, and stood up.

" _Oh!"_ he groaned, suddenly arching forward again. Taking a step or two so as not to fall on his face, he pushed his paws against his back and more carefully straightened up. If the mess didn't put him in prison or the poor house, it might just land him in a wheelchair.

Looking aimlessly about the office, his eyes came to rest on a large portrait of his family: himself in his usual immaculate suit and broad, winsome smile – quite the contrast to the weary, T-shirt-wearing cat gazing at his younger, happier self. His wife wore a royal purple dress which set off her eyes and Meowna Lisa-like smile, and their son was wearing a tailored suit just like his dad's. This last contrasted humorously with the red baseball cap which, through most of his childhood, was the cub's trademark, usually accompanied by a dark gray sweat jacket. Though Scott Lionheart had hated suits at the age of ten when the picture was made, he was smiling cheerfully (helped, if Leodore remembered correctly, by the promise of a trip to an amusement park when they were finished).

They all looked so happy together then; it hardly seemed possible that now the father was old and haggard, the wife threatening divorce, the son a teenager nursing bruises alone in his room, and the whole family facing bankruptcy and social annihilation. If the older Leodore could go back into the picture and warn his past self, the whole family would probably keel over laughing at the idea.

 _And then I would go and get myself in the same mess anyway,_ he thought ruefully, clasping his paws behind his back.

The marriage counselor had advised him to invest more time in his family, which was a pretty tall order with the mountain of legal filings on his desk. So far, it wasn't working so well. Lionheart had managed earlier to coax his wife into a candle-lit dinner like they used to have, but she had dressed plainly and eaten little. Truth be told, he suspected she did it more because the maid went to such trouble to fix the meal than for his own benefit. As for their son, after brooding by the pool Scott had retreated to his room and, by all indications, not shown a whisker all evening.

Heading over to the private wing of the house, Leodore knocked on his son's door. "Scott, are you in there?" he called. No reply came from within.

"Scott, it's Dad. Open up."

When still the silence was unbroken, he took the knob in paw and gently turned it, opening the door all but noiselessly on well-maintained hinges. Scott Lionheart lay inert on his bed, sound asleep. Stepping softly, Leodore walked up to him and stood by the bed, lost in thought. The cub – though he wasn't going to be a cub much longer, alas – lay with his back to the door dressed in an undershirt and boxers. His mane was half-grown and had a reddish tint to it, a recessive trait which had gotten him a great deal of interest from females at his school.

Lionheart sighed and almost left. He'd been hoping to talk things over and at least apologize for the mess. He turned with the intention to leave, but there was something holding him back; something he could not think to name. He didn't _want_ to walk out of the room. Waking or sleeping, his son was in there.

Very gently so as not to wake the teenager, he sat on the side of the bed and looked for a long time at Scott as his eyes adjusted to better use the light from the hall. Was it his imagination, or was the young lion's face creased with worry and grief even in slumber? Was that a bruise on his cheek; a claw mark or two on his nose?

 _I did this to him,_ he thought, looking away. Scrunching his mouth and blinking to excess, he let his eyes wander aimlessly around the room. How long had it been since he even came in here to talk with Scott? The place seemed very different, though it took a little searching to light on any clear differences. Most of the old photos from thrill rides – once Scott's favorite thing in the world – were nowhere to be seen. The shelf of Ranger Scout and Junior Ranger Scout memorabilia bore some trophies Lionheart didn't think he'd seen before, though one in particular he recognized all too well. Back in January, Scott had taken part in a triathlon which Lionheart had neglected to note in his day planner. After what seemed a typical day at the office, Lionheart had come home to find that his son had placed first in skateboarding and second in mountain biking. Not only had the father missed the event, but he'd also been beaten to the punch on his immediate suggestion of celebrating with ice cream.

 _And I promised him a father/son outing to make up for that,_ he remembered. He'd meant to make good on the promise months ago; he really had. Unfortunately, just a couple of days later he had learned of the predators in lockup, and everything else had dropped off his radar.

 _Cripes, I've missed so much._ He was going to get frequent flier miles on this guilt trip. _I hardly even know him anymore._

Further surveillance turned up other surprises. On the walls hung posters for bands he'd never heard of, and his gaze paused uncertainly on a poster of a mostly female group. Front and center was a decidedly fetching... well, it was hard to tell if she was a vixen or a she-wolf wearing orange fur dye. The placements of the band members made it hard to tell. Whatever she was, she was dressed in a retro lime-green suit like something out of the seventies. Over in the corner was a cardboard cutout of a wolf wearing a curious yellow suit and red-rimmed sunglasses, frozen in mid-strum on an electric guitar.

 _I didn't even know he was this much into music,_ he reflected dismally, lowering his gaze back to his son.

Then, with the kind of impulse so arbitrary as to border on supernatural, his gaze drifted toward the night stand. There lay a concert ticket. Reaching over Scott's inert form, he reached out and picked up the slim rectangle of paper. It was for the benefit concert he'd been hearing about, and a little paper next to it revealed that he was going there with his troop.

 _I should be taking him to this. I owe him at least that much._ Then he paused. It was thanks to him that Scott was getting beaten up at school. What would the other kids do if they saw him at an all-city event with one of the top two most hated mammals in the city, rivaled only by his deranged former assistant herself?

Still...

* * *

Out in Meadowlands, in a less-than-favored section of town, a broken-up stone sidewalk hugged the outside of a disreputable watering hole called the Cloven Hoof. Built into a space between several boulders and tucked under a truly massive one hollowed out for extra floors, the place seemed to dare strangers to venture in while regulars ignored the dismal look and neighborhood.

To those who passed through the swinging western-style doors, the inside of the place showed clear signs of a once-venerable establishment fallen on bad times and worse management. Hardwood floorboards shifted slightly underfoot, and rustic tables tightened and re-tightened until parts began to snap were kept from wobbling only by means of washers and pieces of coaster glued to the bottoms of their legs. About the only table in the bar to receive better maintenance was the pool table towards the back, and that only because it was such a source of income. The smell of tobacco – chewed and smoked – was thick in the air, mingled with the sharp scent of several kinds of tobacco from barley beer to wheat grass whiskey. Faded pictures which the manager replaced only when patrons punctured them with too many dart tosses on the sly decorated the place with images of voluptuous actresses and models.

Few of the pictured females, however, could match the voluptuousness of the arctic vixen who strolled about among the tables. Hired to sing twice a day and wait tables the rest of eight hours, she was most likely hired for her feminine appeal and for the chance to let patrons feel dominant over a predator. In the wake of Bellwether's scheme, some mammals who shared the former mayor's resentment of predators were bound to feel cheated of the chance to become the elite. This seemed to be backfiring, however, for the ewe present at one table. Her efforts at willfully and tediously hemming and hawing over the tip could not seem to inflict any unease in her waitress. On the contrary, the more she lingered the more the waitress winked towards the other side of the table whenever a chance appeared. It was working, too; only a thoroughly disinterested onlooker could miss that the ram, who was settling the main bill, had his eyes on his waitress at least as much as on his date.

Finally accepting the check and the pittance of a tip, the vixen retaliated by 'accidentally' brushing the ram with her tail. Once she no longer felt the ewe's baleful 'I saw that, you witch' glare on her back, she looked toward them again. It was only seconds before the ram glanced toward the departing white figure, who threw him a wink and put an extra bit of sashay into her stride as she slipped out of sight.

 _Let's see if_ that _relationship lasts,_ she thought with satisfaction. It was always fun to meddle with males' minds - such as they were, in her opinion - and draw the jealous ire of these oh-so-rotund ewes. Still, she had more important work in paw. She continued to go about her job description dutifully, bustling to and fro with the speed of an antelope and the poise of a mountain goat. Then came her opportunity.

"Hey, V," called the she-goat managing the bar at the moment. "We're running low on Wheatgrass Whiskey. Grab a case from the basement, willya?"

 _About time._ "Yes sir," she replied breezily. "Shall I also bring up some chardonnay?"

The combination of slitted pupils and suspiciously squinted eyelids which this remark yielded clearly presented his un-amused demeanor. _Uppity vixen,_ the ungulate thought to herself. _As if she could get work in a place classy enough for chardonnay._ "Just the wheat grass whiskey," she replied. "Oh, and some Muler too, while you're down there."

Fully aware that it was a toss-up whether they even had any Muler in stock or her boss was just sending her on a snipe hunt, Vanya strode off to the staff door in the back and made her way down the steps. Spread with boxes of seldom-used cooking and serving apparatus (for those times when someone booked the place for an event) the basement was a fire hazard waiting to happen. Didn't matter to her; she'd worked in worse. Instead of bothering with the alcoholic drinks – if you could call them drinks – she calmly made her way to a door at the back of the basement. A rectangle of paint less worn than the rest showed where a sign had probably once hung on the door, but apparently whatever fasteners had once held it had given out some time ago. Now, scrawled in the space once covered by the sign, was a simple _STAY OUT_ in red Sharpie. The door and the wall around it bore clear signs of age and disuse… to an amateur, anyway.

"Theater mockups? Please," she muttered under her breath, fishing in her pocket. "If they wanted people to stay out, they should put up a sign for a males' room – and be more careful with their keys."

Her digging produced one of the items in question, made the day before from a molding of her boss' master key. "Alright, let's see if this does the trick…"

Alas, the key would not turn.

"Well that's pretty inconsiderate." She hadn't been in a position to take moldings of all the keys; she'd only had five seconds and one tray of molding putty. Now she had to move quickly before someone wondered what was taking her so long. "Time for Plan B." She dipped into her pocket again, drew out a lock pick, and fiddled a moment. With a satisfactory _click,_ the lock turned.

Smiling to herself, Vanya looked around one more time before carefully opening the forbidden door and slinking inside like one shadow merging into another. The hall within showed considerably less rust, mold, or cobwebs than the door outside, hinting that the former had been camouflaged to be less interesting to snooping eyes. It was also deceptively well-sealed, containing the reekingly strong odors of liniment, wool… and, underneath them, a hint of Night Howlers.

 _Mr. Big must think I'm getting old if he's giving me such easy jobs. I'm insulted._

Despite her confidence, Vanya wasn't foolish. She drew out a pair of devices resembling epi-pens as she slunk down the hall, holding one in each paw in a reverse grip. She had her phone in her pocket for pictures – silenced, of course – but if she had to act quickly it wouldn't be to take photos. Her assignment was to find evidence second, but foremost to avoid detection.

After a few steps, the hallway brought her to a boiler room practically out of the stone age… or the twenties, at any rate. She had little knowledge of old fixings, but extensive knowledge of underhanded designs and locales led her to think the room had been added back in the twenties. She had noted on a plaque upstairs that The Cloven Hoof had once been a speakeasy. _Which means…_

It was the perfect setup. A boiler to supply heat, noisy equipment and machine odors to cover up traces of an operation, and lots of corners to hide a secret entrance. Back in the Prohibition era, it would have been the perfect place to hide tunnels for a still and who-knew-how-much illegal alcohol.

 _If there's not a secret door in here somewhere, I'll eat this stupid apron I'm wearing._

The entrance was brilliantly camouflaged to blend in with a brick wall. It would have been flawlessly hidden… if it wasn't for the countless overlapping trails of hoofprints on the un-swept floor leading right to it. Evidently the ones using the place now were a few IQ points – or, heck, maybe a few dozen – below the ones who had built it.

"Amateurs," she scoffed, shaking her head at the stupidity of such an oversight. "Why not just paint me a road sign?"

Of course, she would leave paw prints too. She weighed her options and adjusted to put both of her weapons in one paw, allowing her to pull out her phone with the other. By the light from the hall, she took several snapshots of the prints leading to the seemingly blank wall.

 _Anticlimactic,_ she mused, _but it ought to be enough to get the ZPD curious._ If she had planned a little better she could have smuggled a mouse or a shrew in; one in Mr. Big's employ, of course. Unfortunately, that would reflect pretty shabbily on one of the boss's best operatives. She'd always taken great personal satisfaction in only enlisting – and only needing – the help of her 'sisters.'

She was just turning to leave when a click from the end of the hall drew her attention. Cocking her ears, she heard the door opening and hoofprints coming her way. Not good; definitely not good.

Thinking quickly, she made her way along the dusty floor, leaving clear paw prints over the sheep tracks. Then with a jump to one side, she took cover behind the boiler and waited in a crouch.

The manager walked in, looked at the floor, and swore under her breath as she cast her eyes warily about. "Knew I shouldn't have hired that vixen," she snarled. "But that's what I get for taking a job from _ungh!"_

Vanya lunged, driving her shoulder into the goat's oblique region as one of her needles narrowly missed its mark. The two of them tumbled in the dust before the vixen regained her paws and threw herself in again, heedless of having dropped one syringe.

"You should have stayed put like a good little barmaid!" shouted the goat, catching Vanya's paws in her hooves. Vanya quickly retaliated, flinging herself backward to connect a foot with her target's chin.

They traded blows ferociously, but in the end it was no contest. Deflecting a blow with a whirl of one arm, Vanya jabbed with the other and drove her needle home into the goat's belly.

"Ungh!" grunted the nanny goat, stumbling backward. "I don't know what that was, but you'll… you'll…!"

They continued to fight, with the nanny goat now demanding to know what Vanya had put into her system even as her moves grew slower and heavier. Slipping inside a swing a sloth could have dodged, the vixen rammed her fists as one into the goat's face and threw her to the ground.

"Oh, you'll live," she promised as the goat's vision began to darken. "Boss didn't want any dead bodies on this job, so I just gave you a little sleeping drug. Nighty-night."

She never saw the other figure loom behind her, grasping the dropped needle. With a lightning fast move, a stout arm wrapped around her throat from the back while a sharp prick of pain knifed into her shoulder.

"Get off!" she snarled, driving her claws into the encircling arm. The attacker grunted and loosened his grip a fraction, but even as she threw up her chin and ducked from under his arm, she knew the damage was done. She drove an elbow into his pelvis and spin-kicked his hooves from under him, but that was all she had time to do. The sensation which overcame her was oddly like that of being drunk; confusion, unsteady paws, and vision which clouded over on its way to blackness. Her last impression was of a ram doubled up on the floor, and she stayed conscious just long enough to hear him vent his rage over her skillful blows.

"Lousy witch. Once _my_ boss is done with you, I'm going to make you _pay_ for that."

 **Oh, great. Just when you thought it would be a nice, touching slice-of-life chapter. What's Vanya gotten into? What are Taelia and Catano hiding? And what do you suppose Lionheart's cooking up?**

 **I thought some of you might find Catano's history interesting as context for this. Much as I tapped into Maleficent and Cruella DeVille for Vanya, Officer Catano holds distinct traces of Raven (from the older** _ **Teen Titans**_ **cartoons) and Batman. As such, she has a rather stunted capacity for warmth and kindness and has even come to use knowledge designed for healing as more of a weapon. So a scene like this, where she has no use for harshness and no one nicer like Judy to nudge to the fore, is a real game-changer for her. We'll just have to see where that leads. Incidentally, her having been raised by Major Friedkin is mentioned back in chapter 10 – and it probably didn't help her disposition much more than whatever happened with her parents.**

 **I had a lot of fun designing some of the sets for this chapter. Having admittedly never been to a drive-in movie theater, I based the Date Palm chiefly on movies and word of mouth, plus a little simple logic as to what would work best at a place in Sahara Square (hence the fans and slushies). In the case of The Cloven Hoof, I had a few pieces of concept art from the first movie for this unused locale, and drew on the outside shot to set a tone of desolation and disrepair. The basement and extras were drawn on basements and staff-only areas I've been in myself, though I had to use some imagination as I've never worked in a former speakeasy (at least, not that I know of).**

 **Vanya's reference to Muler is, of course, a play on Mueller, a rather pricey brand of beer. At least, it's the priciest stuff I've ever come across, teetotaler that I am. Vanya's crack about chardonnay is, obviously, a quip suggesting that the Cloven Hoof and its fare are lowbrow and classless. I've half a mind to agree, but then there are times when I think the same things about her.**

Guest: Your comment interests me greatly. On the one hand, all other commentators have seemed satisfied with the chemistry between Nick and Taelia thus far (and I myself prefer relationships that develop slowly, as they in my experience are the better in the long run). On the other hand, I have been meaning to move things forward between the vulpines and mainly holding off for fear of revealing too much too soon about Taelia's past and her imminent role in this story. I can say for now that one thing holding the couple back is that each of them, for reasons which are their own, is not being totally honest with the other about certain things. In any case, I hope you found this chapter to at least be interesting enough on that front.

In the meantime, if you want a little more sizzle you can feel free to look up Chapter 10 of Santa Clawed. It's not quite the sexuality you suggested, but it's further along in their relationship and therefore offers a little more wiggle room.

(second) Guest: Thanks. I like twists. Once tried my hand at being a contortionist, actually. The stories I could tell… but I digress. Always a pleasure to keep everyone on their toes.

Justin Durfee: There's no official information on Lionheart's family life, but it's my impression that historically the norm for politicians – or at least male ones – has been that people look for family men to be their leaders. The United States, for example, has only elected two bachelors out of our fifty-two presidents, and one of them got married while in office. I looked at that and one or two other fan writers depicting Lionheart as a husband and father, and realized if he was married it would be impossible that his family would not feel some effects of the scandal.

I'm glad to see your response – and so many others like it – to the matter of the divorce. I too found it difficult and even painful to write it, but it fits the purposes of the story and felt like a matter that needed to be addressed. In a way it's nice to see that issues like this still pull heartstrings like they do, for it seems as though marriage has become rather trivialized these days. I never set out with the intention of my stories being painful to read, but it's reassuring that people still feel pain when they should (well, sometimes anyway). I do plan on ultimately tying up that loose end, of course, but in the meantime I slipped in the scene with Lionheart and son to try and leave that sub-plot on a not-entirely-hopeless note. I had a scene with Lionheart and his wife too, but decided that it added more pain than it took away.

As for registering on DA, I've had some difficulties with that site myself. I don't know how the system works, so I'm not sure if Google makes a difference. However, you can always add an account on here. I appreciate your love of my other stories. I have a couple of time-sensitive projects in the works on here, but once I get those taken care of (last one's marked for sometime in August, but it might have an impact on September and October), I can post more Toby – or sooner if I end up with time online to kill. I have to admit I'm a little surprised that those stories are still getting attention. I was still practically a kid when I wrote those.

Oh, and if you do get onto DA, I go by DragonTamer2000 over there.

 **Easter Eggs:**

 **A superhero style snafu**

 **At least three goofy movie references**

 **A nod to a too-cool-for-school Disney TV series**

 **A hot idea that never happened**

 _ **That Darn Cat**_

 **A paraphrased line from a DTV Disney sequel**

 **Kudos to dispix and** **Beecroft** **for noting one of the Easter Eggs in the last chapter. Dispix, you** _ **almost**_ **nailed it; the king in question was not Simba or Mufasa, but Richard the Lionheart as seen in** _ **Robin Hood**_ **(but I'll give you credit for finding the right clue, at least)** _ **.**_ **Granted I don't consider** _ **Zootopia**_ **and** _ **Robin Hood**_ **to be contiguous, but it's safe to assume that there was** _ **a**_ **King Richard The Lionheart in the world of Zootopia at some point. As for previous Easter Egg answers…**

 **Chapter Ten:** An episode of Doctor Who supplied the **line from Taelia's ex-boyfriend.** I don't recall the episode, but it involved someone taking over the Doctor's body - which, in context, was even creepier than it sounds. I never imagined I'd reference that scene, but I wanted to establish that this guy Taelia dated was a world-class slimeball, so it seemed fitting to use. **Judy's brainstorm** derives from the Sherlock Holmes mystery A Scandal in Bohemia, and while I don't want to drop spoilers about it fans will readily see a similarity to the stunt Judy and Nick pulled on the renegade rams (I see I congratulated BeecroftA for spotting that one, so I'll just give him another shout-out). And congratulations to Out of Pseudonyms for bulls-eyeing the source of **Chief Bogo's fake name** , Basil Stag Hare of the Redwall books (specifically Redwall and Mattimeo).

 **Chapter Eleven:** The exchange of "Just like that" as first a question and then an answer was used as a gag of sorts in _**Angel Wars Episode 2**_ (you have to watch pretty much to the end to really get it), though I'm not surprised no one noticed that bit. Equally obscure, perhaps, is Judy's remark about "staying focused on your goals," a nod to **the refrain of** _ **An Extremely Goofy Movie**_ _._ Bogo's tapping in rapid sets of four is a nod to **Doctor Who,** in which the tenth Doctor's demise was heralded by the prophecy, "He will knock four times."

On a side note, would you believe I wrote the father/son scene on Father's Day Weekend? Totally unplanned; didn't even think of it until they did a Dad theme in church.


	28. Twenty-Eight: Self-Love is Blind

Okay, so another quick shout-out before I begin, because this has become such a hot topic. First of all, my thanks to everyone checking out this fic, which is now (big announcement) THE TOP STORY I'VE EVER WRITTEN ON THIS SITE (I said it was big, didn't I?), topping out my previous personal best, the Balto prequel White Legend.

My thanks in particular to everyone who chimed in on Taelia's personality and her relationship with Nick, both supportive and critical. It really helped me see where you all are coming from as readers, and where I could maybe fine-tune my approach as a writer. Two things I would like to address before beginning this chapter. One is that if you look back at previous chapters - nine in particular - you'll actually find that most of the things you felt were missing were there all along, such as Taelia finding Nick handsome and charming. I'm going back over the chapters anyway to fix typos and such, so I'll see what I can do to make that come across more clearly.

The other thing I will say (because if this were a Zootopia sequel I would have leaked this months before the movie released anyway) is that Taelia – and really, nearly all of the characters – will eventually end up drawn into the case, and will undergo considerable development as the story progresses. That, in turn, is going to impact how they interact with each other and the official characters. So what you all have seen thus far and will see in this chapter is not the final picture. I have a basic idea of where everyone is going to end up (spoiler alert: someone's going to die), but if there are details you'd like to see like making someone more exciting, by all means let me know. I'll see what I can do.

By the way, having seen a similar note elsewhere, I'd like to announce that my OCs are available for use. See terms at the bottom with the Easter Eggs.

 **"I looked at him, and saw myself."**

 **Hiccup, _How to Train Your Dragon_**

"Pretty good movie," Nick remarked as he drove Taelia home. It had been good too; lots of action, a decent plot, and a cast of characters who had substance without being too overdone.

"Yeah, it really got you thinking, didn't it?" asked Taelia.

He glanced her way. The truth was he hadn't had any deep epiphanies from it, and had more enjoyed having Taelia lean up against him than much of anything else. Still, he decided not to drop that particular detail just at the moment. "Yeah, I guess it did."

For her own part, Taelia had found it an interesting mix of classic and new fairy tale elements. It had a fairly standard knight-rescues-damsel base, somewhat lighter than usual on the romance angle. By way of a remix, however, the damsel was so rough around the edges that she really barely counted as a damsel, and spent the first part of the movie under a dark spell that made her a monster. Naturally, that meant she spent a lot of the second part of the movie trying to live down the things she had done before she was freed.

 _Probably a lot like those mammals who were darted in the news,_ she mused. She didn't pay much attention to movie reviews, but she wondered how many critics had said the movie's debut was too soon and how many considered it potentially therapeutic. She was glad she'd never have to deal with knowing she'd done something terrible like that.

Nick, conversely, was not much of a one for philosophizing about movies, especially when something outside the car caught his eye. An old two-story sandstone hotel called The Winking Sand Rat was off to their left, and bore the notable addition of a 'For Sale' sign. The sight came as something of a disappointment, for although he had never stayed there, he and Finnick used to kick back in the bar. Nick had quit drinking soon after he started – drunkenness led to carelessness, which was always bad for a con – but he and the fennec had had some good times in the bar room. Good hustles, good pool, good memories… all goodbye, by the look of it.

 _Although I guess I'll have to leave that behind anyway, now that I'm going straight,_ he thought.

Before he could start wondering if that counted as having second thoughts about becoming a cop, however, he was pulled from his dismal reverie by Taelia's voice.

"Something wrong, Nick?"

He blinked and shook himself. "No, nothing. What were you saying?"

She shrugged. "I asked what you thought of the movie."

"Oh." Nick, quickly ad-libbing an effort to look philosophical, made a show of thinking. "I liked it. Had some good fight scenes, and the characters were okay. I wonder if they'll make a sequel."

Taelia couldn't help feeling a bit underwhelmed, but what was she expecting anyway? Most people, she knew, didn't get as caught up in details and fitting elements together as she did. Working with computers and music had made her something of a critic both for when things worked well and when they didn't, and she liked when different elements of something harmonized well and set each other off like various instruments or voice types. She'd dealt with enough kinds of mammals, though, to know that a lot of them thought in a much less interconnected fashion.

 _How does it go again?_ she wondered, reflecting on something she had heard once on the radio. _Male brains are like waffles; you have a bunch of boxes, and when one fills up the syrup starts flowing into the ones around it. Female brains are like spaghetti; everything touches everything else every little which-way._

Well if it came down to boxes, she hoped she hadn't pulled him away too much from the police box. She doubted she could be especially helpful to him, but she didn't want to be a hindrance either. "So how are things going with the ZPD?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Well, uh, not much I'm allowed to talk about," he answered, simultaneously raising an air of mystery and excusing a lack of talk about his life. "I guess it's okay to mention that we've got some suspects we're looking for, so the ZPD's got every eye they can manage on the job."

Taelia knew about the renegade sheep. It was hard not to since the mammalhunt had been all over the news lately. She made a mental note to keep her eyes peeled too. Sure it wasn't much, but one never knew, and at least it was one way to help. "And you?" she ventured.

"Well, I don't like to brag," was his ironic admission. "I'm keeping my eyes open, of course, and I've got a few friends out looking. Nobody you'd know; just mammals that get around a lot and see stuff going on."

Taelia raised an eyebrow. "What, like a spy network?"

He cracked a smile and answered in a passable British accent. "Well, my dear, if I told you that I'd have to kill you."

She laughed at that; more at the delivery than the joke itself. "Alright, Double-O Savage. Keep your secrets."

Nick grinned, then subsided into a thoughtful expression. "To be honest, there's not a ton I can do until I'm actually a cop, which is gonna take a while longer than we have for this case."

She could understand that well enough. "Slow going, I take it?"

"Like molasses." He waved a paw in an offhanded way. "Forms to fill out, hoops to jump through, references to tap, background checks… you know, stuff like that plus a few office politics."

"Politics?" she echoed.

Her brain managed a moment later to guess that it had to do with his species, but he responded before she could voice it.

"Yeah, you know, Baatin word," he explained. "Poli means many, and ticks are blood-sucking leeches."

She laughed. It was an old joke and a bad one, but somehow he worked it just the same. "Well, at least you're taking it like a fox," she admitted.

He shrugged. "Well, it's not like I can take it like an elephant," he pointed out.

This time she hid her laugh with a snort and shook her head. "It's nice to hear you're doing all you can."

 _Am I really?_ he wondered, though what he said was, "Yeah, more or less." Taking advantage of a red light to stretch his arms a bit, he added, "But I don't want to spend all night boring you with stuff about my day job. How are things going with setting up for the concert?"

Truthfully, she didn't think hearing about his 'day job' as he so noncommittally put it would be boring at all. She knew it took a lot of slow steps to get anywhere in life. No one with a brain could go through college _and_ work in the music industry without knowing that. The very fact that he was moving forward – especially towards an august goal like that – was worth attention. Plus, the talk of getting him onto the force brought back her thoughts of how he would look in a uniform; very easy on the mind's eye.

On the other paw, she didn't want to make him talk if he didn't feel like talking. "Well, pretty good actually," she replied, deciding to let the topic change this time. "Xavier's got the business end of things covered, and Vicky's planning out how we're going to set up our equipment on the stage, so I've mostly got the technical stuff to take care of."

He smirked. "Sounds exciting," he joked.

She frowned, but couldn't hold it for long. "It's a lot more involved than it sounds," she contested, "but yeah, it can get a little dull after a while. I'm glad we got the chance to rest our brains a bit."

He smiled, and to his surprise it was… well, _real_. Not just Nick-pretending-to-be-normal smiling, but the real Nicholas Wilde smiling after a movie date. He hadn't really thought about it, but with Catano he was always the strongly suspected ex-crook trying to burrow his way into legitimacy. Even with Judy, as good a friend as she was, it was consistently about law enforcement. It was nice to have someone around who was totally disconnected from his old life and only passingly connected with the new.

"You know, so am I," he admitted.

Taelia couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a smile like his. After the relapse at the drive-in, it was about the most reassuring and satisfying thing she could imagine. His irises were like twin emeralds looking out of a deep orange setting, and his smile could have charmed the stripes off a tiger. She felt, all over again, the warm pressure of when they had leaned together during the movie. Once she fought off her relapse, the snuggling had been… oh, there had to be a word for it. 'Refreshing' wasn't quite right. 'Comforting' and 'satisfying' didn't do it justice. After a moment her mind settled on one simple word: right. It just felt so right.

That was when a car horn honked behind them, 'politely' informing them that the light had turned green.

"Okay, okay," Nick relented, shifting his foot to the gas pedal.

Taelia resisted the urge to huff. _Go figure._

The rest of the car ride seemed to be over all too quickly, and Taelia wanted nothing so much as to find some way around saying goodnight on her way out of the car. So she wasn't particularly sorry when Nick asked rather awkwardly if he might come upstairs, citing just how much of a slushy he'd had.

"No problem," she assured him, stepping out of the car.

Feeling it appropriate to make up for the request with a little charm, Nick extended his elbow as they went up to the apartment. Taelia took it, but kept her eyes and ears peeled for any of her neighbors. She doubted any of them would be up – or at least outside of their apartments – but she didn't want them to think Nick was spending the night.

 _Although they'd probably just comment on what a reynard I'd found,_ she reflected, casting a look at Nick. He smiled back at her, though there was a slight twitch in his ears and a haste in his steps, testifying to the call of Mother Nature.

Having seen him upstairs and directed him to the bathroom, she dropped onto the couch and sighed. The awkwardness quickly gave way to a sense of satisfaction at an evening spent unwinding. That was how Nick found her when he emerged, and he had to admit she looked nice.

"You look comfortable," he observed with a smile.

She smiled and nodded. There was something about seeing him standing there in the kitchen that just made her feel… well, content. It was nice to have something that just _fitted_ the way he seemed to, like a long-lost piece of a puzzle she'd almost given up on ever completing.

Seeing that she didn't look in the mood to get up, Nick jerked his thumb at the door. "I guess I'll just be on my way now."

Something spurred Taelia to call to him to wait. As he looked her way curiously, she got up, crossed the distance to him, and then stopped awkwardly.

 _Oh, boy,_ thought Nick nervously. He'd had females look at him like this before. "Something I can do for you?" he asked, resisting the urge to tug at his shirt collar.

She wavered like a diver on the block. "Well, would you mind if I hugged you?"

It was a strange request, considering she'd spent so much of the evening leaned against him at his invitation. Still, he moved his arms out a little from his body as if in warm-up. "I guess not."

So she did, hanging her chin over his shoulder with a smile he could practically see through the back of his head. He'd never understood why some ladies were like this… but hey, who was he to complain? He hugged her back, and wasn't even terribly surprised when her lips pressed against his cheek a moment later.

She, on the other paw, pulled back blushing. He caught a glimpse of her back-tilted ears and averted pupils; familiar enough symptoms, all things considered.

Taelia's brain scrambled like a swimmer at the yell of the word 'shark,' trying to get back to safe terra firma. "Nick, I..."

He chuckled. "It's fine. I know I'm irresistible."

This time her annoyed huff was trying – only trying – to hide a laugh. "Yeah, well, don't get a swollen head." Cracking in her pretense, she added, "It'll ruin your good looks if you're not careful."

Nick's smile never abated. "And what a loss that would be."

Laughing again, she broke off the hug and unconsciously clasped her paws in front of her. "Well, goodnight."

He mimed tipping a hat as he opened the door. "Goodnight," he called. Humming, he strode down the hall and out to his car. _Wilde's still got it,_ he thought to himself, fully satisfied with the flow of events.

Back in her apartment, Taelia could hardly have been more content as she went to her computer to continue preparing for the concert. On that night's agenda, she needed to iron out some settings for the speakers at the concert so the sound waves from one wouldn't disrupt the ones from another. She was a bit distracted, but refreshed and newly energized by the evening's events.

 _Things are finally turning around,_ she thought, little imagining what a rocky turn it was going to be. Time would tell, though. It always did one way or the other.

* * *

Over in Savannah Central, things were not going _quite_ so smoothly. In a lonely apartment, Officer Callie Catano tossed and turned in a vain and increasingly agitated effort to get rest. The walls in her apartment building were not much better than Judy's, though neither had the frame of reference to know it. Most of the time that troubled her little, but tonight the usually quiet apartment next door offered a ruckus even Judy's noxious neighbors could scarcely have topped. It was a cacophonous mix of weeping like someone had lost their mother and groaning like they had taken the words 'All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet' as a challenge. Mixed in were a surprising number of requests to "Make it stop," whatever 'it' was.

"Do you need a doctor?" she called, lifting away one side of the pillow which she had folded over her head.

By the tone of his voice, she could imagine the groaner waving a paw or hoof. "No, I just... ohhhh... I mean, I went to one already."

She bit her lip. Normally she saw duty as duty, but she needed her rest. "Well, would you mind toning it down? I'm trying to sleep."

The party apologized and was quiet for a little while. Helped by her sleeping meds, Catano was just about to drift off when a faint whimpering reached her ears. In no time flat, it had grown into the same lamentations as before.

"I have a job to do tomorrow, you know," she called out.

"I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry. I just can't stop... _Ooooaah._ " The voice, though distorted some by the wall, sounded vaguely familiar.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes of this torment, Officer Catano had had enough. Stomping out her door and down the hall, she banged on the offender's door. "Listen whoever-you-are, what's going on? Do I have to call an ambulance?"

A weak, sickly voice came from within. "Sorry. Really sorry. Hang on... I'll be out in a sec."

Catano hadn't asked for the neighbor to make an appearance, but there was little time to even think about that. Moments later, the door opened to reveal a face she'd never expected to see: a very chubby and passingly familiar member of her own kind.

His eyes opened in wonder. "Officer Catano?"

She stared back as her brain snapped the name to the face like a buckle coming together. "Clawhauser?"

Being that their usual schedules were so different, the two cheetahs had never imagined that they were next-door neighbors. Now they just stared at one another, too stunned to speak.

"Are you sick?" asked Callie at last, remembering the reason she had knocked.

"Oh. No, I'm okay," he replied, his lie as feeble as the voice that uttered it. "Just, uh... just something I ate... or didn't eat."

She raised an eyebrow. She'd seen him looking poorly at work, but this was _way_ out there. "You're that messed up over the doughnut bet?"

He nodded.

Officer Catano thought for a minute, then took a deep breath. Normally she would never suggest what she was about to suggest, but Ben's suffering was _really_ something else. Besides, the way things were going she figured she had three options. Taking extra sleeping pills… well, if she took enough to knock her out at this rate, she might literally never wake up. Giving _him_ sleeping pills would be practical, but might not work if his stomach was hurting that much – assuming he was willing to even take them. That only left what was of course the option least up her alley: talking him through it.

"Why don't you just eat them off the clock?" she asked. The suggestion was not remotely her usual style, but she was willing to suggest about anything if it would get her a good night's sleep. "I mean, it's not like Bogo's got cameras in your apartment. Besides, the whole point is so you'll look more professional on the job, right?"

Ben sagged. "I wish," he admitted, "but I kind of promised no donuts, and I've gotta make good on it. I mean, a promise is a promise, right?"

Callie had to admit, that remark alone was more than she would have given Clawhauser credit for, all things considered. Perhaps he'd make a decent officer after all, if only he could get into shape.

"And anyway," he went on wearily, "I went to the doc for the cramps, and he said I've been eating too much sugar for a long time now. If I don't cut back on the sweets and lose some weight, I could get diabetes or something."

 _Oh, so it's not all about honesty,_ she thought, her cynicism making a comeback. It surprised her a little that this didn't completely eclipse her sympathy for him. As it was, she knew it could be tough to break a bad habit. She would sooner cut out her tongue than tell anyone, but when she was a cub her sudden break from her parents had caused her to relapse into thumb-sucking. It had proven so persistent that Major Friedkin had finally resorted to putting castor oil on the digits every night. That might have been why, in the present moment, Callie refrained from mentioning that she had often thought of medical problems when she saw Clawhauser in passing. It wouldn't help... and besides, he looked so miserable already.

It was about then that she realized the predicament in front of her. For all her years of experience as an officer of the law, she was pretty far out of her depth when it came to trying to be an angel of mercy. When it came to victims and the grieving, she mostly just kept them from going completely to bits until more specialized officers or counselors arrived. She had an academic knowledge of counseling, and she'd always been good at psychology, but offering actual comfort... well, to tell the truth she had usually let her partners handle that.

 _What would Judy do here?_ she wondered.

Not at all sure that what she was about to do was the least bit wise, she decided to plunge ahead. "Do you want to… I don't know, sit down and talk?"

He seemed a little surprised by the offer. "No, I..." he yawned. "I don't want to keep you awake."

"I think it's a..." she started to say. She had been about to finish, 'little too late to worry about that,' but she managed to stop herself. A yawn cutting her off helped, and gave her a moment to search her sleep-deprived brain for a more delicate reply. "I think I'd... sleep better if I knew you were alright," she offered uncertainly. To her surprise, she found that it was even kind of true.

Ben rubbed his eyes. "Well, just for a little while, I guess," he agreed wearily.

Catano listened, jabbing herself with a claw periodically to stay awake, as Ben talked about things on which her weary brain couldn't catch the slightest hold. After what felt like hours, he finally dozed off on the couch. Since there was no way she'd be able to move him to his bedroom, she found a blanket decorated with a massive print of Gazelle and draped it over his awkwardly sprawled, sleeping figure. Then she dragged herself wearily back to her apartment, and almost managed to make it back to her own bed before fatigue and the sleeping pills finally did their job.

* * *

Obearon looked at a phone snapshot of the unconscious white vixen his underlings had taken prisoner.

"Interesting." A hand rose up to stroke the musing chin. "Very interesting. I don't think I've ever had the displeasure of meeting her. Anyone you know?"

Obearon's henchmammal considered the photograph. After some study, his ears flicked back and his gums showed pointed teeth.

"Vanya Zarra," he recited. "Crook for hire, usually tied up with an outfit over in Tundra Town. Skilled in burglary, corporate espionage, and blackmail."

The boss chuckled. "And paw-to-paw combat, by all accounts."

Another nod. "Rumor has it she killed a wolverine with her thumb once," he replied. "No proof, of course."

This was all beginning to interest Obearon a great deal. "And her interests?" prompted the mastermind.

A sour look crossed the henchmammal's face. "Control," he answered. "Of males especially. She'll use any trick to subdue any guy she can, usually to bring them to a humiliating ruin later."

Obearon chuckled. "A mammal after my own heart. What a pity she has to be a fox." The mastermind picked up a phone lying on the table and shot off a text message to the vixen's 'jailor.'

 _Bring her to the conference room at once,_ was the command. _Conduct her with the utmost chivalry, and apologize thoroughly for any discomfort or bother._

* * *

Under the Cloven Hoof bar, the ram who had caught Vanya practically snarled at the message. After what that vixen had pulled, he had much more desire to put her through a wall than conduct her nicely, let alone apologize. Still, he had his orders – and where money would not compel swift obedience, the boss also seemed to know pretty much everyone's dirty secrets. One phone call from Obearon – just one anonymous tip from whatever civilian identity lurked behind that voice – could lock everyone in that little hideaway behind bars for decades. Most of them had even longer to worry about, what with the charges of domestic terrorism and attempted homicide hanging over their operation. When orders were agreeable – like making sure someone never saw daylight again – the job was a cakewalk. Otherwise… well, then it was a textbook example of conscription.

Summoning three other rams, all heavily armed, he went to the closet where they had locked her up. With the way she had gotten in he worried that she might have gotten loose, but she had been searched practically with a flea comb and tied in every possible way. For added thoroughness, she had been enclosed in an old trunk with one or two holes drilled for air. To complete the prison, the trunk had no protrusions or rough surfaces inside on which to weaken her bonds.

It was, however, still no small relief when they opened the box and found her awake and in a state of daze-like indifference. She looked up at them as if waking up in such a manner were all perfectly normal to her, and for a moment this unsettled them. That was no accident, of course; Vanya, with her craft and ego, had determined that confusing them was her best chance, since intimidating was foolish at the moment and appealing was beneath her.

After some consideration, two of them fastened snare poles to her wrists and another to her neck. Then, and only then, the fourth one went about unbinding her. Her clothes, unsurprisingly, were in a much rougher, dirtier state than before, and her fur was an absolute mess of dust and disruption. As she became more alert, though, her eyes assumed their usual calm and collected expression.

"I suppose this is the part where you take me to your leader?" she taunted.

The lead ram snorted, but produced a brush and considered before handing it to her. "No funny business from you," he warned, "but the boss wants to speak with you as a guest. Give her some slack, Frank."

With one paw freed to move but still held securely in the noose, she proceeded to put herself in a somewhat better state. Then, when the brush had been taken back, the poles around her wrists were removed and one of the rams took them and the brush out of the room so as to deny her anything she could use as a bludgeon.

"We've been told to be nice," snarled the one in charge – the same ram, of course, who had kidnapped her. "But don't be fooled, doll face. I'll snap anyone who makes a fool out of me. Ya got that?"

She rolled her eyes, but resisted the urge to ask aloud whether his insults or his threats were the more boringly unimaginative. "Alright. I suppose this means I can walk on my own?"

He gestured, and the third noose was removed. After it had been passed out of the room, the lead ram waved for Vanya to come with him.

"Hope you'll pardon the rough stuff, ma'am," he added, doing his best to sound sincere and charming. "Just part of dealing with any snoop, you know."

A coy and somewhat sarcastic smirk crossed Vanya's face, and she lifted her ears in a show of confidence and preparation. "Your boss must find me attractive," she cracked. "I should have worn a better dress."

Amazingly, she could almost hear the ram gritting his teeth. Obviously he was hoping that she'd be a little more off-balance.

 _Good luck with that, fat boy,_ she thought. She'd had boyfriends who gave her rougher wakeups than he and his posse had managed.

Her unwilling guide led her to a room with a single chair, a table, and a speaker in the middle of the table. The walls were dingy and stained, and the hint of mildew – though diminished as best as one could expect – tipped Vanya off that they were underground. _Probably still under the Cloven Hoof,_ she mused. That could point to several useful things, like the fact that if the basement of the Cloven Hoof was the group's main headquarters, they probably had few other bases. Assuming she got out alive as was her habit, that could prove most valuable to Mr. Big.

 _Not to mention the ZPD and a certain dodgy fox will owe me a favor._

"Here's the vixen you wanted to see, boss," drawled the ram. Then, in an unusual twist, the trio left her alone with the speaker and locked the door.

" _Greetings,"_ growled the voice of Obearon. _"And please, first of all, let me apologize for any rough treatment you may have met. I really will have to deal with those thugs, but then..."_ Obearon chuckled. _"Ungulates can be such a bother."_

 _Interesting,_ mused Vanya. "I've met with worse."

" _Undoubtedly. Your name is Vanya; correct?"_

Seeing no point in hiding that fact, she nodded. "Yes, I'm Vanya. If you know who I am, you probably also know why I'm here."

" _Of course I do. You wanted to find out about our little operation. Tell me, does it please you?"_

She snorted in derision. "Not really. For one thing, finding your hidden entrance was entirely too easy. Even the ZPD couldn't miss it."

" _Oh!"_ Obearon gasped as though in pain, and Vanya could imagine him – or her – slapping a paw to their chest. _"I really thought I was paying for better security. Still, I suppose they were good enough to capture you – unless of course you already wished to be caught."_

Even without the use of sight or smell to read her host, Vanya suspected that there was some sort of bargain in here. "Let's say I was. Why would I do that?"

Obearon's chuckle was subdued enough not to make it through the phone line. _"I know more than just your name, you know. You and I are much the same. We enjoy a good game of chess, as it were; deception, misdirection, domination of the mind of another. Isn't that true?"_

Vanya reflected that whoever was on the other end must have some resource with a connection to her. "Sounds like we have a friend in common as well," she observed.

" _Very shrewd,"_ came the answer. _"And our mutual friend has suggested to me that you might like to know what we're working on down here."_

This was leading either to death or to possibilities, and Vanya knew that if they meant to kill her she was already in a tight spot. "I might indeed," she ventured.

" _Very well. You see, Bellwether's science was most useful, but the truth is that she never scratched the surface of the Night Howlers' potential. Even in its base form the essences present in the flower weaken higher thought and escalate aggression, but they can do so much more than cause reckless violence. Used properly, they can make an afflicted mammal into an absolute puppet; a perfect slave subject to any suggestion."_ Pausing to let that sink in, the mastermind continued, _"The resulting drugs do not show up on conventional tests, and mammals under their influence give no obvious indication of impairment to observers… or to their kidnappers."_

Vanya got the drift. _That_ does _sound interesting._ Since most of the mammals she… well, dealt with were larger and stronger than herself, 'chemical negotiation' was an old and familiar game to her. She had often struggled with the zombie-like effects of most depressants, which were annoying at best when she wanted her victims to do something and downright hazardous when passers-by noticed the telltale signs. This drug – if it was as good as advertised – sounded much more useful… and more fun, for that matter.

However, she knew enough about bargaining to mask her intrigue. "Sounds like I'd better not take any drinks around here."

This time Obearon did laugh audibly. _"Very good; much better than the senseless rabble I'm usually faced with. What a shame I didn't have your card the last time I needed to break in somewhere. Still, perhaps that can be remedied."_

Vanya liked the sound of that. "You're leading up to something."

" _I am. I have a job or two which need doing, and would be well-suited to someone of your talents."_

At this she sighed in a show of regret. "Well, my talents are on a payroll," she admitted, "and if I switch loyalties I might as well tie on the toe tags myself."

A low laugh came through. _"Oh, I know a few things about knots,"_ assured Obearon. _"Supposing I let you placate your employer on this assignment. Then would you trust me?"_

"That depends on what you're asking me to trust you about – and what kind of reward comes attached to the risk."

" _Ample funding, and the keys to total control over anyone you choose."_

This impressed Vanya. _So whoever's informing this Obearon mammal knows me well. I hope it's not someone I've dated._ "And the assignment?" she asked.

" _First, a test of cooperation to earn your freedom. Second, a test of your talents – beyond merely breaking into this little hide-away, I mean. And third..."_ Obearon paused dramatically, _"I want you to bring me an old associate of mine. She'll come willingly; no doubt of that."_

 _Interesting,_ mused Vanya. "And what kind of cooperation would you want from me?"

" _It takes a spy to spot a spy,"_ was the answer. _"Have you noticed any others around the Cloven Hoof?"_

A smile grew on her lips. _Two birds, one stone,_ she mused. "As a matter of fact… yes."

 **Well, that's rather ominous. A ship headed for rocky waters, and a professional criminal headed for trouble. Is it just me, or is this story getting a whole lot messier? And what's going to happen with Clawhauser and Catano?**

 **Little bit of a science lesson in case Taelia's evening work plans confused anyone. Sound waves, much like waves in water, can effect other waves passing through the same space at the same time. Depending on how the waves meet, they may cancel each other out, produce bigger waves, or just garble each other. Assuming Taelia was able to get the data she needed on the layout of the room where the main concert would take place and where the speakers would be (presumably every band would use the same speakers, supplied by Poisson and/or her staff), she could fine-tune her music programs to ensure the best possible results.**

 **This was admittedly a very difficult chapter to write, particularly Vanya's part. I'm not a fan of using chemicals of any kind to control people (not even a fan of most ADHD meds, really), so trying to get inside the head of a character who uses them as frequently as Vanya would is… well, uncomfortable. Not to mention that trying to keep my K+ rating was a challenge as well. Also, my apologies to the readers who grew fond of Vanya in Santa Clawed; in this storyline, she's going to take a rather darker path. Not saying she will or won't turn to the light eventually, but if she does it's going to take more than seeing someone choke on a cookie to sway her this time.**

 **Easter Eggs**

 **Ratatouille**

 **Skyrim**

And that announcement I promised: As of this posting, my OCs are open for anyone who'd like to use them, say, as background characters in a story or extras in a scene. The terms are pretty simple:

1) Credit (of course).

2) Please keep them fairly consistent with their established personalities. Some flexibility is fine, and more if you're clever about it, but for the most part please treat them with respect.

3) I'd like to see any material with them before it goes public, for my own reasons. As a general rule, PG13 or lighter is preferred (no trips to Mystic Springs. Sorry).

4) Have fun!

Lot of Guest reviewers on this chapter (I think it might be the most I ever got). I wish I could respond more interactively with some of you, because there were some interesting points raised in critique of my presentation and OCs here. If any of you want to comment through profiles so we can PM, feel free. I won't bite, I promise.

Guest 1: I covered some of this with you via PM, but I'm re-posting it with some additions for the benefit of people following this conversation. First off, the struggles of Taelia and Catano. From a marketing angle, so to speak, it would have been better to present their troubled pasts up front. The reason I went about it this way is that in real life, most people's scars aren't so obvious. Take Officer Catano, for instance, who alluded to being adopted back in chapter thirteen. Would she likely just come out and say, "My parents used to beat me" or "Some punk shot my mom and dad while they were out on a date night"? Probably not. Most of us keep those scars hidden so well that friends, spouses, parents, and children would never guess it in a hundred lifetimes. Meanwhile, the rest of us never even think about the pain all around us. I wanted to drive that point home, so I settled on a "slow burn" approach. I might do side stories later on which will be more up front with those aspects; certainly the feedback on such an idea has been favorable thus far.

To clarify a couple of points about the interest between Taelia and Nick, as stated previously most of the things you suggested have already been used, albeit in many cases subtly. For example, it's safe to say he wouldn't have slipped right out of the car to chat with her based on the photo on her license unless that photo interested him. As for her, the way she fantasized about how he would look as a cop certainly implies attraction. Concerning careers, it's not just that he's looking for a legitimate job that attracts her. He's actually trying to break ground. She sees a man with ambition and accomplishment, which as best I can guess is something any sensible woman looking for a man would find attractive. Granted, she's definitely looking at him through rose-colored glasses, which is perfectly normal for early infatuation. As for Nick's attitude toward relationships, as I noted at the end of chapter eight he's in transition from self-centered to others-centered as a continuation of the change seen in the movie. You'll notice that initially he didn't hesitate to play people as much for amusement as profit. While it was clear at the end that he was working on that, habits of that kind rarely end overnight. Also, this is just a few weeks after he and Judy caught Bellwether, whereas the scene with him as an officer would probably be six months or more after. Basically I think the shift in his attitude was one of the more significant points of his part in the movie, so I'm expanding on it in this story. Where exactly that lands him in relation to other mammals – Taelia included – is something you'll have to watch to see.

Guests 2 and 3: Glad you're enjoying it. Savor the sweetness while it lasts, because as I just hinted to Guest 1, things get rocky later on. If you want more sweetness, though, I can see about serving up some more - if not here for the time being, then perhaps in side stories like my "Fox Dens and Rabbit Trails" collection.

Blast Hardcheese: I suppose that comes down to a question of what's "bland" in a relationship. Depending on what you mean by "outside my comfort zone," it's fair to say that I do have a dim view of the hook-up culture and that Taelia has good reasons to have a still dimmer take on it. At any rate, while she wants intimacy – both emotional and eventually physical – but she's not looking for shortcuts. In that sense perhaps she is a bit less exciting than Nick, but there are other brands of interesting. I'm aiming more for a "still waters run deep" approach in her case.

As for automatic approval, it's certainly true that I'm judged more narrowly for trying to develop a character outside the rubber-stamp system of pairing up characters. The flip side of it is that characters like Taelia, however unimportant they may seem on the surface, are at heart the whole reason for all the police action we see Nick and Judy engaging in. The whole purpose of law enforcement is to allow everyday, seemingly unimportant people to live their lives. On the flip side, some of the most remarkable instances in law enforcement (at least that I've ever heard of) came about when someone totally unconnected got involved. I recall reading of one instance not quite a year ago where a grandmother passing by an incident actually saved a police officer's life by grabbing a suspect from behind and holding on until the man was subdued. (I no longer have the article, but I believe all parties escaped without serious injury). I choose that incident because it makes the point well enough while not giving too much away about my plans with Taelia – which, I trust, you'll find much more interesting later on. In the meantime, happy reading – and maybe set it up so I can PM you next time. I would have liked to get a clearer idea of some of your thoughts before replying on here.

Thanash: Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it. :)

In any case, everyone by all means keep those reviews coming!

 **Easter Egg Answers:**

 **Chapter Twelve**

The criminal mastermind has a thing for classic literature. **Obearon,** of course, is a play on Oberon, the unscrupulous fairy king of Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream._ **Faust** was the name of a fictional character who sold his soul to the devil - kind of like Doug at the moment. **Tigerbalt,** Jesse's codename, is another Shakespearean troublemaker: the hot-blooded main villain of _Romeo and Juliet_ who, much like Jesse, ends up picking a fight with the hero of the story.

 **Elder Tails,** the video game Kevin mentioned, is a play on the fictional online RPG _Elder Tales_ from the anime _Log Horizon._ At least that was the real Kevin's idea, though personally I like Skyrim better, as per Foxlover91's guess.

 **Chad Clawson's surname** is borrowed from Jake Clawson, aka Razor, on the old action cartoon _SWAT Kats_ – which, for you furry fans out there, is apparently in the process of getting a reboot.

 **Chapter Thirteen**

Suggested by winerp if I remember right, **the hula figure in the van holds a fishhook** as a nod to Moana. Kind of surprised no one called that one.

Kevin's remark about his **Illusion Level** is a nod to _Skyrim._

The mention of an operative **"009"** is a nod to a Team Rocket agent - also known as "Domino" and "The Black Tulip" from _Mewtwo's Return._ Not a very good Easter Egg, I know; got to work on that.

Judy's brain screaming **Let it begin** is, of course, a nod to Rhino in _Bolt._ I'll have to see if I can put him in later; maybe make him Judy's love interest for my first crackship (nah, just kidding). The Mr. E caught this one; nice job!

Nick's joke that **"maybe her taste runs more toward wolf"** is a paraphrase of a line from Steele in _Balto._

When Nick disappears on Kevin, the wolf complains that he's **"going to nail his paws to the ground."** This remark, and the stunt that preceded it, are directly drawn from one instance of a running gag in _Batman: The Animated Series_ in which Batman would disappear on people - Commissioner Gordon in particular - while they were still talking, much to their chagrin.


	29. Twenty-Nine: Friend or Foe, Who Can Know

Again, my thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, and so on. In answer to one of the guest reviews, I must confess I'm not particularly clear on the distinction between PG13 and PG15. So to make it simpler, if it's not drug promotion or straight-up you-know-what, send me a description or a sketch of what you have in mind and we'll talk. Chances are the worst you'll get is a request to tone something down. I'm cautious after having had some of my characters hijacked before, but I'm hardly what you'd call a control freak about these things. As it is, I do have a few more, uh, mature ideas for them in later stories.

(And if you seriously don't know what I mean by you-know-what, I'll try to explain it via PM. Nothing to it)

The only other note of interest is that I have a special production specific to the month of September slated for release on the 27th.

Having covered that, on with the story. Proofreading by Hawktooth, with some special assistance from my girlfriend Byrony Ironwing on one of the Easter Eggs.

" **But why wilt thou seek for ease (from thy burden) this way, (since) so many dangers attend it? Especially since, hadst thou but patience to hear me, I could direct thee to (what thou seekest) without the dangers that thou in this way would run thyself into? Yea, and the remedy is at hand."**

 **Worldly Wise Man,** **Pilgrim's Progress** **by John Bunyan**

As she headed out the next morning, Catano paused by Ben's door. She knew it was probably against her better judgment, but in the back of her mind she had the urge to check on him.

 _He's not a cub,_ she reminded herself. _It would be rude to baby him, right? Well, enabling anyway. Then again, he_ is _a fellow officer._ Her ears dropped a little at that; whether in annoyance or disparagement, she wasn't sure. _Well, technically an officer._

No one who knew Officer Catano would accuse her of having too high a regard for her fellow mammal, but in the end she wasn't one to ditch them either – if for no other reason than her own sense of duty. She argued back and forth in her mind, and decided to just give a quick knock and see if he was any better. He should be heading out to the ZPD soon anyway, and she had a crick in her neck from falling asleep at an odd angle. _Might as well see if it was worth the trouble,_ she thought.

Raising a paw, she rapped several times. It took a moment for any answer to emerge, but after some attempt at speech lost in a yawn, Ben emerged rubbing his eyes. There was a vague impression of improvement in him; a touch less of slumping in his posture, perhaps – but that was all even Callie could observe before he registered her presence. In a surprising change of demeanor, he jolted into full alertness with a speed that actually seemed cheetah-like… somewhat.

"Cal- I mean Catano?"

She sighed just a little, though she wasn't sure why his fumble annoyed her. "Call me Callie as long as it's just us. It's quicker."

"Oh. Uh, okay. Is something wrong?"

"That's what I came to ask." This exchange was not her usual manner, but then their previous conversation hadn't been either. "Are you feeling better after last night?"

Her concern seemed to surprise Ben, for his eyes widened and his ears drooped just a little. "Um, yeah. And… you know, thanks.

"Just doing my job," she replied out of habit. "Are you about ready to get to work? I was heading out myself, so I thought I'd check in."

"Oh, yeah." He yawned. "I'll catch the subway in a bit. Just gotta have breakfast."

Catano suddenly found herself thinking about tagging along with him. She preferred to walk to work, though it often took a good stretch of time. Still...

Amidst this reverie, she suddenly realized that Ben was asking her something and jolted back to attention. "Sorry, what was that?" she asked.

He faltered a little. "I asked why you stopped over last night."

She debated how to put it, and decided she was cranky enough to grant herself some bluntness. "Because you were keeping me awake." When he withered at this, she realized that had been the wrong thing to say. _What would Hopps do?_ she wondered. "But you're also an officer." _Sort of._ "We've gotta have each other's backs, right?"

The look he gave her was hard to decipher, or at least hard for her. Usually when she did see it, it was aimed in some other direction – and usually it was with much more intensity, like when friends or relatives reunited after a crisis.

He was actually glad to have her around.

As it was, her first thought was, _Please tell me this isn't a crush._

Ben turned his head to look back into his apartment, noting the time. "Uh, you want something to eat?" he ventured by way of making conversation. "I've got Lucky Chomps..." his mind seemed to drift for a moment, straying towards the gravitational pull of visions of sugary ecstasy.

"You're drooling," Catano noted, trying not to make a face at the thought of all those empty calories. "What else do you have?"

His dreamy look vanished as he hastily wiped his mouth on a sleeve. "Uh, oatmeal?"

Catano wanted to drop her forehead into her paw, but resisted. "Tell you what. I've got some bug patties I can throw in the microwave. Do you prefer ants or beetles?"

Ben looked hopeful. "Honeypot ants?" he asked.

"Sorry. I've got, uh, fire ants." Callie wasn't very big on sweets. "I might have some cricket hash tucked in the pantry."

After some hesitation, Ben opted for the cricket hash.

Over a fairly quiet breakfast, the chubby cheetah raised another question. "Hey, Callie? Why'd you decide to become a cop?"

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Well, I know Judy always wanted to make the world a better place, and Nick wants to be a cop... well, to prove he can, I guess. I was just wondering what your reason was."

Callie hesitated. "It's… something I wanted to do way back," she explained. She tried to think how best to answer; her family history wasn't something she liked to talk about. Withdrawing into a suit of emotional armor decades in the making, she summoned her best neutral tone and finished simply, "I guess you could say I did it on account of my parents."

"Oh." By Ben's reaction, her effort at turning his mind from considering the matter was a success; maybe too much so, for he shrugged and said kindly, "Well, I'm sure they're very proud of you."

For one agonizing moment, the armored suit that was Officer Catano threatened to crack and expose the real Callie Catano with all her criss-crossed scars under Ben's unwitting verbal lance. For a moment, her insides churned and her brain seemed ready to burst as she fought back the waves of memories.

Then the moment was gone, and she was tough-as-nails Officer Catano again. "Thanks," she said quietly.

"You're welcome," he said innocently. Then he noticed the clock. "O M Goodness," he jabbered. "We're going to be late for the train!"

Callie looked and frowned. There was plenty of time... _Oh, right._ With the shape he was in, and his body recoiling from a change of diet, Ben wouldn't be setting any speed records any time soon. She quickly downed the remainder of her hash and grabbed a patty she had stuck in a biscuit. "Let's go," she ordered, getting up and making for the door.

It was just as well Catano didn't know how drawn-out Ben could be thanking someone. By the time they got through the revolving doors, she thought she might never do him another favor – _ever._

"Listen, Callie, I want to just say again I really appreciate last night, and this morning. If you ever need-"

"Stop," she sighed, raising a paw as her patience for the litany of gratitude finally ran out. "You spent the whole train ride over thanking me, Clawhauser. So for the hundredth time, you're welcome. In fact, don't mention it…"

" _Ahem,"_ came a small voice from down by her feet.

She looked down and a little back to find that she and Ben had just walked right past Nick and Judy.

"Morning," Nick waved up cheerfully.

Naturally, as a cop Catano often had to juggle multiple things at a time. Because of that, and since her ancestors were the chasing champions of the animal kingdom, she had more than a little of a knack for thinking several things at once, such as,

 _I was beaten to work by a fox. Major Friedkin would have a fit._

 _Please tell me I'm not late._

 _I don't like the look on Hopps' face – at all._

"Well," she said, recovering quickly. She drew her footpaws together, stood perfectly straight, and clasped her paws together as she inclined her head down only just enough to have the pain in view. It was a perfectly military pose of dignity and command – at least until Ben walked into her.

"Sorry," he whimpered.

She waved off his effort to help her up. "Don't mention it – _please,_ " she replied, rising on her own. She stepped out of his path, indicating with one wave of her paw that he should head to the front desk.

Nick winked and pointed an index claw at the departing cheetah. "Nice catch, pal," he called.

Catano frowned. _That had better not mean what I think it meant,_ she thought. She said nothing, however. If Nick knew he had gotten on her nerves, he would probably keep at it. That would be trouble, especially if she lost patience and drop-kicked him.

 _Watch yourself, Catano,_ she thought. _You arrest mammals for that kind of stunt._

Judy snickered, but any further annoyance was hindered by Chief Bogo's approach. "Ah, good. You're all in one convenient place. Report to roll call in five minutes; I have your new assignment."

"Um, actually, sir," Judy replied, "we have a break in the case. Just walked in the door about two minutes ago, and he should be waiting for us by the briefing rooms."

This was news to Bogo, who turned in surprise to Officer Catano.

"They said nothing to me, sir," she answered without hesitation to his unvoiced question.

"It only just came up," Nick replied brightly. "Judge says he knows what's been happening to our warrant requests."

Bogo frowned in confusion, then waved a hoof. "Terrorists are dancing around us like grasshoppers, and you three are playing hopscotch with cases?"

Catano was irked too, but she was also piqued to find out what had happened with the warrants. "Ten minutes, sir," she interceded. "We'll meet with you in ten minutes."

The cape buffalo sighed. "Ten minutes," he echoed. "In my office."

All three saluted, though Nick's earned a scowl for pretentiousness as Bogo headed off for the bullpen.

"I'm telling you," quipped the fox once their superior was out of earshot, "that guy must have at least three black belts in Frown Fu."

"Enough banter," Catano cut him off. "Let's find out what this is about the judge."

"You should come too, Nick," advised Judy, drawing a sharp look from Catano.

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"Hey, the whole point of him being in on this is to prove he can make himself useful," the doe argued, folding her arms in pointed fashion. "So I say we give him a shot. I already introduced him to the judge anyway, and he was part of our last interrogation."

"From behind the scenes," countered Catano. She considered. "Alright. It's irregular, but I suppose we can give him a chance. Wilde, come with us – but don't speak unless someone asks you something."

Nick smiled. "Hey, no problem. You can do all the talking you want to, ma'am."

Catano was plainly irked by this remark, and even Judy looked a bit tweaked. After a moment, though, the former waved. "Come on."

* * *

As Nick had predicted, the judge was waiting for them just outside one of the private chambers. "Ah, Hopps, Mr. Wilde," he greeted before looking up at Catano. "And Officer…"

"Catano," the cheetah replied. "We talked on the phone about the warrant requests."

At this the marsupial's ears dropped and he looked somewhat chagrined. "Oh. I am sorry about that, Miss, but I think I can take care of that right now. I have some information which should clear the whole matter up." He patted a laptop case which hung at his side.

Catano nodded, and had she not been as unaccustomed to it as she was she might have smiled. "Good. We could use some headway on this." She opened the door and waved his honor in. "Sir."

Once they were all seated, the judge took out his computer and powered it up. As he did, he glanced quizzically at Nick. "May I ask why…?" he asked, not sure how to finish.

Catano glanced at Judy, indicating that this was the rabbit's question to answer. "Mr. Wilde is working undercover for us," she explained. "Don't worry. He's one of us."

Nick threw an ironically satisfied look her way, while Catano raised an eyebrow. The judge looked on skeptically for a moment before nodding. "If you say so."

There was a moment's silence as he made his way through the computer files, struggling once or twice with the computer's uncooperative touch-pad buttons. "Really need to replace this thing," he muttered to himself.

Catano glanced at the computer, which bore marks of considerable use and a sticker for a conservative group next to the touch pad. "A personal laptop?" she asked.

He nodded. "In light of the situation, I thought it would be… well, excusable to make a copy of the security footage from the courthouse cameras for your official use," he explained. As he spoke, he opened the video player to show a view of his office.

"What exactly are we looking at?" asked Catano, leaning to get a good view over his head.

The judge let out an annoyed cry as he clicked at the wrong point on the time bar. "Gah. If only these things came as easily as matters of law," he grumbled. "This is some footage from my office a week before Monday. All the footage is backed up to computers, accessible by only a select few staff of course."

"Of course," Judy agreed, following his logic but not his story. "But why were you looking it up?"

He coughed. "Well, that's rather an embarrassment, really. If you must know, I hid a birthday present for my daughter in my office because she knows all the hiding places at home. Last night I realized that her birthday is tomorrow, and I couldn't remember where I put the gift."

Judy tried not to laugh. Misplaced presents were all too common in her family, and often provided an added incentive for house cleaning. Catano, not so enamored with domestic snafus, merely rolled her eyes.

"So what exactly did you find?" asked the cheetah.

"Almost… ah, that should do it," said the thylacine, pausing the video. "You see here I was out of my office – hearing cases, you know. Now, watch what Stangahoof - that's my secretary, Joseph Stangahoof - does."

They watched for a few moments as the secretary went through paperwork, then got up to check the fax machine. He picked up the forms it spat out, and suddenly began to flick his tail in a state of evident agitation. Suddenly he yanked out his phone and made a hurried call, glancing several times toward the door as he did.

"That's pretty weird," said Judy quietly.

"Wait, wait," hissed the judge.

Still on the phone, the nyala swiftly made for the paper shredder and popped the forms in, then hurried to hang up and get back to his place.

"Interesting," Catano agreed thoughtfully, "but why did you bring this to us?"

The judge simply pointed to a clock in the footage. Both officers stared at it, and Judy jumped up.

"That's right when I sent you the first application!" she cried. "The one for a search warrant on Poisson's farms!"

"Precisely," agreed His Honor. "I considered confronting him on the matter point-blank, but I realized then that he might get away before he could be arrested."

Officer Catano rubbed her chin. "We'd need a warrant," she noted ironically.

"I have it here," he answered, drawing out two sheets of folded paper. "One for his arrest, and one for the search of Poisson's farms."

Catano picked them up. "Good," she agreed. "We should arrest Stangahoof first. He has to be connected with this somehow."

Nick raised a paw, holding his other in a thumbs-down position for good measure.

"Nick?" asked Judy, puzzled.

"Yeah. If Joe _is_ connected to Obearon, we'd better not arrest him. Obearon will launch another Night Howler attack."

Everyone listening dropped their ears at this. "So what do _you_ suggest?" asked Catano.

"Yes, I can't just rest easy with a traitor right in my office," agreed the judge.

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, your honor," Nick advised.

Catano regarded Nick thoughtfully. "Wilde has a point about not setting off another attack," she conceded. "I think we should keep this quiet and see what we can find out without tipping anyone off."

The judge thought about that, tapping a claw against his muzzle. "Mr. Wilde," he ventured, pressing his paws together, "you seem to be rather… in the know. Perhaps you can find something out."

Judy wasn't sure what to make of this remark. It seemed straightforward enough, but the way the judge said 'in the know' felt like a suggestion that Nick might have a criminal history. Catano was also giving Nick a wary look… and it didn't at all help that she was right.

Regardless, Nick played it cool and just nodded. "I'll see what I can do," he promised. "In the meantime, if that's all the info you've got then you should probably go back to work before our mammal realizes you're up to something."

"I told him I had an appointment I'd forgotten about that couldn't wait." The thylacine's ears were back, and his paws were together with the fingers drumming against one another. "Alright. I'll see what I can do – and my thanks to all three of you."

"You should give us a copy of the footage before you leave," Catano interjected, fishing out a USB drive. "And as Wilde said, don't tip off the suspect."

"Of course not." He set about copying the video file, musing aloud to himself. "I suppose I should pretend I'm still grouchy over the misplaced present. I did find that, so there's little worry of his finding it and ending the charade."

Catano nodded. "How nice for you," said she with little sincerity. "Good day, sir."

* * *

As the old proverb holds it, 'it never rains, but it pours.' Even as the trio were finishing up with the judge and making arrangements for Nick's plan, Nick was accosted by another familiar face – one hardly as welcome.

"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite tod."

He stifled his reaction at her sudden appearance. "Vanya," he greeted. "Well, this is the last place I'd expect to see you."

She chuckled, pivoting at her waist and folding her arms. "Well, I told you the first time we parted ways that you'd be seeing a lot of me."

 _Yeah, that's one way to put it,_ he thought. "Well, I assume you came by for some reason other than flirting."

"Do I really need another reason?" she asked, smirking.

Nick knew that she was doing this to bother him, and that no amount of acting on his part would deceive her about it working. So he decided to use one of his best weapons; bother her right back. "Well, it just so happens I'm doing something else," he advised. _And seeing some_ one _else,_ he thought, though he knew it would be ill-advised to tell Vanya that. "So if that's your only business here, I know a cape buffalo I can introduce you to."

A brief flicker if irritation told him he'd scored a blow, but Vanya recovered quickly as always. "Ah, yes, Chief Bogo. I may look him up; it would be a fascinating conversation."

Determined not to reveal his unease at that prospect, Nick maintained a neutral expression. "Alright, Vanya, what are you really here about? Did your _boss_ send you over?"

Vanya resisted the urge to scowl, knowing that Nick was intentionally reminding her that she was subordinate to someone else. "Actually, no. He just sent some information which I volunteered to bring over in hopes of seeing you."

Nick tried to be glad about this. Progress was progress, and they needed every break they could get for this case. "Well, Hopps and Catano will be glad to hear that," he allowed, lifting his paw and curling his claws around toward his palm for inspection. "Though as it happens, we've got a pretty good lead already."

At this, Vanya raised an eyebrow. "Oh, do you? That's interesting. What kind of lead?"

"Ah, sorry. I'm not allowed to tell you that." Nick smiled triumphantly, satisfied to finally have something Vanya couldn't top. She seemed ready to try anyway, but Providence intervened in Nick's favor.

"Wilde, we have the go- who's this?" asked Catano, regarding Vanya dubiously.

"An informant," Vanya answered for herself, not hesitating in the least as she turned and put a paw to her chest. "Officer Hopps, good to see you again."

Judy did her best to hide a frown. "Same here," she answered. It was only half a lie. She had always been the sort who, if there was a wasp in the room, liked to have it in sight.

"And Officer Catano," the cheetah added. "You have something to tell _us_ specifically?"

Nick's mind scrambled. If Catano realized that his connections were bringing them information, that would probably boost his chances of getting into the ZPD. If she got it into her head that he was leaking out info of who was investigating what, not so much. Thinking fast, he seized on an old standby cover story.

"Miss Zarra works for a tabloid. Her boss is a friend of mine, and his reporters see pretty much everything around the city. So I asked him to put the word out to look for signs of, uh…" he made a show of looking around as if to check for eavesdroppers. "You know what? Let's talk about this in private."

Usually Catano's mood was pretty well-hidden, but none of the smaller mammals who trailed her to the interview room where they had just spoken with the judge could miss her skeptical air. Judy and Nick found it unsettling to say the least. Vanya, on the other paw, found it most intriguing.

 _So, the cheetah trusts him about as much as he trusts me,_ she mused. If she'd been alone she would have rubbed her paws together with glee. _Talk about ripe for the picking._

Nick tried to act calm as they sat down for their meeting, but it was hard with the look on Vanya's face; a look he knew all too well. To an untrained eye, she looked a little nervous as one would expect from the crime witness role she was playing. To him, it bore all the subtle hints she had about her when she was planning to corner a guy – or _coroner_ a guy, as the case might be.

"So," Catano opened, folding her paws, "You say you work for a tabloid editor?"

"Well, a tabloid owner," Vanya explained. "We prefer not to discuss things too explicitly; makes it easier to get scoops and air them without… well, repercussions. You can call my boss Mr. B."

The cheetah nodded. "And Mr. B. wanted us to know about…?"

Vanya drew out a pawful of photographs and set them on the table with a _thwap,_ then fanned them out like a winning Pawker hand. All three sleuths picked up the shots as she voiced what the pictures themselves testified.

"A Night Howler lab, under the Rainforest District. It's underground like the one Nick turned up before-"

Judy cleared her throat. _"We_ turned up," she corrected.

Vanya hid her chuckle beneath a cough. "Oh, excuse me. I got the impression Nick was the hero of the hour."

That Judy had been involved in finding the lab was no secret, nor that it had been in the subway. The news networks had talked of little else for days after the incident. Nick's role in that, however, like his part in everything else, was a guarded secret. Catano glanced doubtfully at the smaller duo, clearly not pleased that this information had leaked out. It took some effort for Judy to keep herself in check.

 _She's just trying to make me mad in front of Catano,_ she told herself. _She's just trying to make me mad in front of Catano… and it's working._

"Anyhow," Vanya went on, "it's nestled in among the pipes feeding the Erikson Trotta Memorial Rain Tree, tapping off the moisture down below. Slightly larger than the one before from what I've read, but harder to get to. I'm guessing they set it up as a backup location and couldn't get to it without risking exposure after the incident with Bellwether."

Judy hated to admit it, but this was big news. "We'll have to get on this right away. If you give us your contact information, we'll contact you with any more questions we may have."

"Of course." Vanya quickly took one of the photographs and scrawled her name, phone number, and a PO box number on the back.

 _It_ would _be a PO box,_ Judy mused. _No home address._ The matter was academic since they knew Mr. Big would know how to get his paws on her. Still, it was definitely irksome. She shrugged it off. "Thank you for your help, Miss Zarra," she greeted, lowering her eyebrows a little as she uttered the name. Her meaning was clear: 'We're on business terms only, lady.' "We'll be in touch with you if we need any more information."

"And of course you'll be getting some reward money if this lead turns up legit," Nick added through half-lidded eyes. He suspected Catano would be annoyed at his bringing it up, but the closest thing to a sure way of securing Vanya's trustworthiness was to make it in her self-interest.

Judy cringed. She had a good guess of Nick's reason, but after Vanya dropped the leak about his role in the matter, they were definitely treading on thin ice with the cheetah. Worse, that would put them on thinner ice with Chief Bogo.

 _Be careful, Nick,_ she thought.

Sure enough, once Vanya was gone Catano wasted little time in voicing her all-too-expected view of the matter.

"For someone shrewd enough to realize a risk of setting off Obearon," she objected point-blank, "you seem to be rather careless about sensitive information."

"Hey, with all due respect," Nick protested, "I didn't tell her anything about my role in this. She and I are barely on speaking terms."

"Then how did she know you were part of finding that lab?" pressed the cheetah.

Nick shook his head. "May I remind you that she's a reporter?"

Catano pressed back her ears. "No, I think I'll remind _you_ she's a reporter – and a tabloid reporter, which I'm guessing means she's not very scrupulous about who her stories hurt. Mr. Wilde, there's a lot more than your chances at working with us down the road on the line if word of your exploits gets to the wrong ears."

Judy felt the need to step in. "Excuse me," she argued, "but if Nick says he didn't tell her anything, then I believe him. She obviously found out some other way."

In all the time Nick had been around Zootopia, he had never seen what amounted to a staring contest between a bunny and a cheetah. Judy folded her arms, looking not so much defiant as resolute. Catano gazed down at her, betraying no emotion except skepticism – which, from her, was the default. As last she exhaled through her nostrils in a manner not unlike Chief Bogo's. "Alright. So she found out some other way. That still means it's just a matter of time before something else goes wrong, so we need to decide on our next move and make it."

"We should check out the Night Howler lab," Judy answered without hesitation. "It may have something we can use to track down the rest of the conspiracy, and at least we can do something to disrupt their supply of ammunition."

"Without setting off Obearon?" asked Nick.

Catano's eyes flicked back and forth, as if she were examining the pieces on a chess board invisible to the others. "It's a risk we may have to take," she admitted. "Hopps, you come from a family that grows the flowers. Can you make whatever happens to them look like an accident?"

With a deep sense of irony over the cheetah's wording, Judy thought for a moment. "Probably," she admitted. "I'll have to do some shopping, but I think I can manage that."

"Good. Now as for Wilde…"

Nick did _not_ like the look in the cheetah's eyes as she turned them on him.

"You had something in mind when you told the judge you would see what you could do."

Nick resisted the urge to panic. _Never let them see that they get to you._

"Wilde, I know when someone is scheming something – and right now, we need all the connivance we can manage. What's on your mind?"

It came down to a question of choices. Nick could explain his plan, but doing so carried a distinct risk of raising suspicions about his criminal history. On the other paw, he could call her bluff and play dumb, which would be safer but also less useful.

Inwardly, he sighed. Life was a lot less complicated when he could just nip and dodge his way around answering for his actions.

 **Uh-oh. Bit of a tight spot Nick's backed into now. Think fast, fox; you're up against the speediest mammal on the planet.**

 **Some readers might be interested to know that for the breakfast scene** **, I tapped the fact that beetles and ants are both among the more widely eaten insects of the world. Honeypot ants, to which Ben referred, are a kind of ant able to store massive amounts of nectar inside their own bodies as a way of saving it for lean times, when it feeds them and their colony members. Some of you might know they are a popular dessert in their native land** **s** **and can be eaten like candy right out of the nest.** **There are several species, of which the best known live in Australia and the Southwestern United States – meaning Zootopia could easily have local farms of them** **. Fire ants are obviously a little more hazardous to harvest, but they are edible in moderation, and are even used as seasoning (not a joke; they really are spicy). They have to be cooked thoroughly if they're going to be eaten in any quantity, since the acid in their bodies can be toxic in larger doses. As an obvious disclaimer, I DO NOT recommend eating any kind of insect unless you know what you are doing, especially if people in your area use a lot of pesticides.** **Special thanks to Hawktooth for supplying the insect info.**

 **Speaking of insects, Easter Eggs:**

 **Voyage of the Dawn Treader** **by C.S. Lewis (yes, there is a connection there)**

 **Sherlock Holmes**

 **There is also a kind of Easter Egg – more like a riddle, really – to do with the quote at the beginning. Those who have read** **Pilgrim's Progress** **may figure it out, and if you haven't it's** **only a chapter or two in (I forget if it's one or two)** **. It's well worth reading; of all the books I've read (and there are many), it is the one I am third most likely to recommend,** **with the caveat that even adult readers may wish to start with an abridged version as the dialogue is quite long-winded.**

 **One reference I forgot to mention is the Erikson Trotta Memorial Rain Tree, a reference to semi-famous author and speaker Joni Eareckson Tada, the most cheerful and encouraging woman you'll find in a wheelchair. She is, last I checked, still alive and even still at her career despite having been paralyzed from the neck down since she was a teenager. Despite being very much alive, she seemed appropriate to reference in the context of a memorial moisture tree, her material having refreshed so many people. However, I saw fit to adjust her name to read more easily since so many have struggled with Taelia's name already (pronounced Talia).**

 **Easter Egg Answers:**

 **Chapter Fourteen:**

The **Back to the Future** reference comes up when Nick remarks that Jesse could have been processed in two hours if they just abolished all lawyers, a nod to when such a feat was achieved in _Back to the Future 2_ for that same reason.

The nod to **Lilo and Stitch** is when Nick snaps a photo of the stunned hippos just before the younger one's lollipop falls in imitation of the fat man's ill-fated ice cream cones (no offense to fat people out there).

 **Chapter Fifteen:**

This one was kind of low-hanging fruit: Nick's thought that someone had "bugged the wrong bunny" is of course a play on Bugs Bunny. Don't worry. There's a better one a-coming.

Guest Reviews:

 **Thanash:** Glad it was worth your wait. :) As for the rating thing, it's like I said up top. I can negotiate most things, so if you have an idea let me know. I prefer private messaging, though (it's not hard to set up an account if you don't have one, though) as it simplifies discussion and makes the end result more of a surprise for readers.

 **Guest (1):** Yeah, I think seeing how the characters bounce off one another is a lot of the fun of a story, whether in a romantic fashion or a platonic one.

 **Guest (2):** (the one who was iffy about Nick and Taelia back in chapter 26, for those following) Thank you, and thanks again for the feedback earlier. I realize that in some ways I've been treating this as more of a movie than a fanfic, but failed to account for the fact that a movie would have a lot of advantages this format simply doesn't provide as fluidly. So thanks for the reality check, and I'm glad you stuck around. On a side note, I've got a story specifically pertaining to Nick and Taelia in development for the _Fox Dens and Rabbit Trails_ collection (mostly a fluff piece, really) along with the long-in-coming _Prank War._ They're a separate story line from this, as you know, but they'll have development in the relationship such as you noted in _Santa Clawed,_ so they might be of interest to you.

 **ITWP6 (aka Mary):** Thank you for responding, and for your support in my disputes with Critics United (assuming that's who you meant by CU). However, I'm not looking to take part in anything motivated by hate, even against someone who came after me out of the blue on such dubious grounds. I'm especially not looking to harass anyone into submission, as you put it. So between that and the fact that your review had nothing to do with my story, either positive or negative, I had to screen it out. So sorry.


	30. Thirty: Awkward Confessions

Once again, thanks for all the feedback and encouragement. Couple of quick story updates:

I recently posted my first Horror/Supernatural mystery in a collaborative project, and I'm currently uploading it periodically to my profile **. For those who read the original, this is the second draft with some input from historical fic whiz WANMWAD and several improvements of my own.** Just put that part in bold because a lot of people saw the updates and thought it was just a repost. It's not, so if you liked the original then by all means check out round two. I'll be using this as practice for an even better one later on, so input's welcome as always.

More importantly, this past September I took some brief time aside to work on a kind of prequel to this story set during the events of the Night Howler crisis itself. I call it " **No Stone Unturned 00: Sing Me To Sleep** ," and although it's just a one-shot and the connection to these stories won't be apparent for quite a while yet, I think it's one of the most powerful and important pieces I've ever published in any forum.

And last but not least, I've gotten wind of a few rumors concerning yours truly. One is that someone (haven't yet verified that he wants his name known) gave up writing fan fiction because of a review I posted. I'm sorry the ones circulating this story didn't think to address me directly, and I was even sorrier to think that my words gutted someone like that, but I got in touch with the guy and it seems I had nothing to do with his story stopping. So please, if you hear something about me or have a beef with me, come talk to me one-on-one.

If you get the chance, feel free to check these stories out and let me know what you think.

On this story, I've realized for a while now that I'm focusing pretty heavily on Nick and on various OCs or side characters, and kind of leaving Judy to her own devices. I do have my reasons for this, but I also did want to give Judy some attention and this chapter provided a good opportunity. Hopp you all enjoy it.

Proofreading, as in the past, by the illustrious HawkTooth.

 **Kraven: "Powers. Yes, that is how he beat me; the only reason he beat me. Give** ** _me_** **powers."**

 **Warren: "Spider-Man paid handsomely for his."**

 **Kraven: "Why should I** ** _pay_** **for what I can** ** _take?"_**

 **Warren: "You have no idea what I'm doing to you. Would you really trust me if it weren't in my self-interest to succeed?"**

 ** _Spectacular Spider-Man_**

Judy looked anxiously back and forth between the two. The fact that they were big enough to literally talk over her head reminded her way too much of trying to intervene at Gazelle's rally. One wrong word from Nick could seal his fate, and one wrong move with Catano could slam the door on his chances.

 _Not like this,_ she thought, getting a rare sense of just how small and limited she was even as… well, herself.

Catano regarded Nick icily, ignoring the rabbit. "Wilde, I already know your past looks fishy. It's not going to help you now to try to dodge this."

"Hey," Judy objected, "he doesn't have to tell us…"

"Carrots, let's not," Nick interrupted, raising a paw. He looked up into Catano's face, meeting her eyes. "I've had a few connections with criminal types. Vanya's one of them."

The cheetah's eyes squinted a fraction more tightly. "And you?"

He coughed and glanced away slightly. "I may have, uh, fudged some paperwork here and there."

The cheetah betrayed no emotion, but Judy couldn't stand by. "Hey," she objected, "he's trying to make a clean start, _and_ he's got insight that might help. Shouldn't we give him the-?"

Nick's paw slid deftly over her mouth, halting her objections. "Judy, I appreciate the backup, but this is really not the time to push things."

Judy stared at him, surprised that he was rejecting her support. Catano raised an eyebrow, meanwhile, clearly surprised that a fox who had just admitted to having a checkered past was being more cooperative than an experienced officer. "Agreed," she said, looking pointedly at Judy. Then returning her main focus to Nick, she added, "And if you're doing this to impress me, it's not working. I already know you've got doubts about this, and if I were in your fur so would I. The catch is, if I wanted to torpedo your shot at getting your records scrubbed, I wouldn't need your help to do that. I _would_ need your help to get you the shot, though. So the only one you can hurt by playing tricks is yourself. _Capiche?_ "

Judy sighed, looking anxiously at Nick as he took away his paw. She did _not_ want to see him get in trouble, but he was right… and so was Catano. Whatever they thought of the cheetah's intentions, they had no choice but to work with her or give it up – and giving up was _not_ going to happen. Thus cornered, the bunny braced herself mentally and nodded. "Okay. Go ahead."

"Good," Catano said curtly. "Then let's cut this short: if you can look me in the eye and tell me you've got no history of violence, I'll call that good enough… for now."

Nick met her gaze with unwavering certainty. "I guess you'll be calling it good enough for now."

Catano rolled her eyes. "Alright then. Your idea?"

Nick rolled a paw over, extending one index claw. "Here's my plan. We find out what the secretary knows, _but_ we do it without letting on that it's a police investigation."

"Interesting," Catano mused, tapping a claw to her chin. "And how do you plan on managing that? Have a couple of un-uniformed strangers just walk up to him and start asking questions? How is that not going to be suspicious?"

"Oh, it'll be suspicious," he agreed. "So suspicious that he – and anyone he tells – will go off in a completely different direction if they go looking for answers."

Judy's stomach knotted. _Nick…_ she thought. He could pull it off; she had no doubt about that. Exposing himself like this, though…

 _Please, Nick. Be careful._

The cheetah, meanwhile, regarded Nick thoughtfully. "And I suppose you have the know-how to make it that convincing?"

Nick smiled his best 'you know you want what I'm selling here, lady' smile and nodded coyly. "I might know a few names to drop that would keep any low-life from asking too many questions."

To the smaller pair's surprise, Catano actually smiled a little. "Keep talking."

Judy wished she could share her fellow officer's enthusiasm, but to her that smile had looked a little too familiar. It was the smile of one who had somebody right where she wanted him.

* * *

After Vanya left the precinct, she rounded a few corners, slipped through an alleyway, and got into a small silver car. Pulling out her phone, she punched in a number and held the device to her ear.

" _Yes?"_

"All set," she announced. "They took the bait like a school of starving piranhas."

A cold laugh came through the line. _"Excellent. I assume you left everything in order?"_

"I always leave everything in order. Did you get a chance to check my tip?"

Obearon snorted derisively. _"I don't check tips. I have employees to do that for me. I'll be taking care of the snoop tomorrow night."_

Vanya scowled. "I could do it in two hours. I know where to find him, and I'd do it for half of whatever you're paying whoever."

" _We move when I choose,"_ Obearon answered firmly. _"That lab you pointed them to will keep them busy for now, and the next diversion should throw them into disarray. Then we'll take care of the spy."_

Vanya was somewhat annoyed at basically having to accept being strung along, but remained willing enough to cooperate for the time being. "Whatever you say," she purred.

" _That's better. Now go; enjoy yourself for a while. I'll be in touch."_

* * *

The breakthrough in securing warrants and finding out about Stangahoof's antics pleased Chief Bogo – at least if he could ever be said to _be_ pleased.

"I'll distribute these," said he, taking the search warrant for Poisson's farms and factories. "Good job."

"Well, thanks Chief," said Nick, smiling.

Bogo and Catano both gave him a look. Judy didn't look at him, but sighed at his chutzpah. As fun as he could be, did he want to ruin everything?

"And what exactly was your part in this, fox?" asked the buffalo skeptically.

Judy cleared her throat. "To be fair, sir, it was Nick who figured out how to question Stangahoof without tipping off Obearon."

Bogo blinked, then flicked his eyes toward Catano.

"He's been helpful," the cheetah affirmed passively. "He did point out that Obearon would retaliate if we went after one of his agents, and suggested the backup plan to avoid that."

The chief nodded slowly, and looked hard at Nick as if trying to see the inside of his mind. Judy couldn't help thinking with some amusement that if that were Bogo's goal, it would never happen. It was a small lift, but a lift none the less.

"Well, then I suppose I should thank you for your help," he uttered at last.

Nick threw a playful salute. "Glad to be of service, sir."

Bogo did not look amused. "I said I should thank you, not that I did. But this strategy of yours..." here he turned to the officers, settling his gaze at last on Judy. "You and Catano are in agreement on the fo… on Wilde's part?"

Judy nodded, her enthusiasm a bit dampened by worrying that the chief might figure out the same thing Catano had: that someone with an in-depth knowledge of criminal names would not be such a spotless dove himself. A chief, after all, did not haphazardly end up with that status. "He has what it takes, sir. There's not a doubt in my mind that he can pull this off."

"Hmm…" Bogo looked to Catano, who nodded. At this he seemed to shrug. "Alright. Assuming you're willing and available, Wilde, we can proceed with the plan tonight."

"I'm in," Nick agreed.

"I'll get Clawson," Catano volunteered, lifting a paw. "He's the best we've got for undercover."

Bogo shook his head. "I'll take care of selecting officers. You keep chasing down leads until you catch one and bag it. Dismissed."

The trio turned to leave, but as Catano held the door for the smaller two, Bogo called her back. "A word in private, if you don't mind."

Nick and Judy exchanged ill looks as the door closed behind them. As it clicked shut, Judy drew Nick as much out of the way as could be done and laid out her thoughts.

"You know what Chief Bogo wants to ask her about," she said in a low voice.

"Do I know that?" he asked, folding his arms and regarding the door dubiously. "Yes. Yes, I do."

Judy lifted her paws and let them fall. "Nick, could you _please_ be serious about this? They could ruin you right now."

He shrugged. "Look, Carrots, we both knew this wasn't going to be easy. Thing is, I don't see how panicking is going to fix anything. I haven't told them anything they couldn't have used already to bar me. If I don't cooperate, it's only gonna make it worse."

She shook her head. "Okay, hotshot. So what's your plan for winning them over?"

A cool smile spread across his lips. "I can't tell you that when we're surrounded by cops."

Judy would have made some kind of comeback, but at that moment officer Catano emerged from her private conference with the chief and derailed her train of thought.

"Alright," she said, walking up to the two of them. "Hopps, you said you had a good idea how to destroy those Night Howlers discreetly."

Judy nodded and unfolded her plan, then turned to Nick. "Any idea where we can get the stuff as fresh as possible?"

Nick flashed a thumbs-up. "I know just the mammals and I already texted them."

"Good," answered Catano. "How soon can they deliv-?"

Nick's phone chimed in his pocket, cutting her off, and he smiled smugly. "That's probably… wait, no, someone else. I- oh." It chimed again in his paw, and after a tap and a pause he smiled. "Will two hours from now at Vine and Mangrove do? Told them it was urgent. I chose a pickup spot near the maintenance tunnel entrance, and… oh, we'll need a pickup truck. You don't want this stuff in the same airspace with you."

Judy wanted to hug Nick. It was obvious he was playing it up to get the point across to Catano, but oh, he was selling it _hard._

It seemed to be working, too. Catano's eyebrows lifted… slightly. "I'm impressed," she admitted. "Any chance of you sharing how you get these things done so quickly?"

Nick shrugged. "Sorry, but I only share that info with co-workers."

The eyebrows dropped back down as Judy tried not to smirk.

 _Haggling,_ thought the bunny, smiling. _So that's his game. I should have known._

 _Haggling,_ thought Catano. _So that's his game. I should have known._

* * *

While Catano went to see about a pickup truck (she wasn't sure if the ZPD had one among their unmarked vehicles), Nick suggested he might go down to see Kevin in the tech department. Judy opted to go with Catano, and as soon as they were clear of Nick she gave the cheetah a piece of her mind.

"Just so we're clear," she asserted, "I'm _not_ okay with what happened earlier. Nick is not an enemy, and he's not our suspect, okay? We're working with him."

Catano shook her head once, not breaking stride. "Correction, Hopps. _He's_ working with _us_. Maybe short-term or maybe long haul, but don't get your loyalties turned around."

Judy frowned, her pace faltering for a moment. "Get my- wait a minute, are you saying I'd drop the ZPD for him? That's not going to happen. There's no conflict."

"I'd like to believe that, but tell me honestly: if you had to choose between Nick and the precinct, which would you choose? Suppose he did double-cross us?"

"He is _not_ going to _do that,"_ Judy reiterated stubbornly. Then a thought came to her. "Anyway, didn't you tell me once that you'd never lost a partner? Aren't you loyal to them?"

Catano actually hesitated at that for the merest moment, and Judy dared to hope she had scored a point. It was premature, and died in like manner.

"I back up my partners because we have a job to do," the cheetah answered, "and because as a fellow officer, it's my duty to them. But if another cop turned crooked, I'd take him down without hesitation and not stop until I was done."

The conviction with which Catano spoke of 'taking down' a fellow officer sent a chill through Judy. She mustered her confidence, however, and kept her posture rigidly inexpressive. "Listen," she pressed. "I understand that, but can't you at least give Nick a chance or… or lighten up on the rules and not-?"

"Hopps," Catano cut her off, "I can and will tell Chief Bogo whatever he needs to know. No exceptions. For the sake of teamwork I'll withhold what I know about Wilde unless and until it becomes important. Don't ask me to lie to a superior, though – _ever."_

Judy got the message loud and clear. As far as Catano was concerned, Nick was an asset but not an ally. They were fighting uphill on this, as she'd known already, but now that Catano knew some of Nick's background they had lost a major piece of footing.

"That's not fair and you know it," she accused, leaning forward and stretching a little upward.

Catano snorted. "I missed the part where life was fair," she countered. The next part was much quieter, and even with her rabbit ears Judy could barely decipher it. It sounded like Catano had said, "Missed it around when I was adopted."

Judy's nose began to twitch at this. _What's that got to do with Nick?_ she wondered. Then confusion gave way to frustration. _And we were just starting to get somewhere. Darn it!_

Finding a pickup they could use only took a short while. So with the pickup time being two hours away, they decided to use the time going over the maps and blueprints of the tunnels. Nick and Judy took a precinct laptop – made for a sheep, which was as small as the ZPD had at the moment – while Catano used a fixed monitor more to her liking.

"We should have asked your friend to stick around for this," Catano observed to Nick.

"Ex-girlfriend," Judy corrected. "So definitely not a friend."

It took all of Nick's willpower not to facepaw. "Thank you for summing that up," he uttered. He'd been hoping to downplay how much he knew Vanya. "And just for the record, _I_ ditched _her_."

Catano said nothing on the subject though. "This area right here is under the moisture tree she mentioned," she said, pointing to an area of pipes and pump rooms on a chart. "We'll have to search them and see what we can find."

Judy glanced at Nick, tempted to ask if he had ever been around those tunnels. Considering his ready solution to the vanishing vehicle three months before, it was just the sort of thing he would know. On the other paw, it was also something that would make him look shadier in Catano's eyes.

She tried to catch his eye and signal him without being too obvious. When he noticed her staring at him, she twitched her head toward his tail and then wiggled her fingers as if drumming them. Then, as discretely as she dared, she pointed one finger towards her leg.

Evidently, Nick understood her paw signals about as well as she understood his. The impromptu game of charades got them nowhere.

 _Maybe I_ should _try studying to be a mime,_ she thought. There wasn't much to do but keep going, though. Leaning forward, she touched the tip of one finger to the blueprints and began tracing along the different blue water pipes and white maintenance tunnels.

"What are you doing?" asked Catano.

"Looking for a pattern," she said. "If I were a criminal trying to hide something, where would I set up?"

Catano glanced at Nick, who shrugged helplessly. "Well, they need water for the plants, right?" he asked.

Judy's stomach dropped, wishing she could pick Nick's brain openly. Just then she felt a swat against her leg, and her mood instantly changed. _He got the message! Yes!_

"This spot, maybe…" she mused, backtracking her paw a little and keeping her voice calm.

Catano raised an eyebrow. "Why there?" she asked.

"Looks to be near pump rooms," Nick mused. "Water plus a waterproof source of electricity equals…"

"A _perfect_ setting for Night Howlers," Judy finished. "But is it out of the way enough? Doug wouldn't want a maintenance crew walking in on him."

"Hmm," Nick mused. "I know a guy who works maintenance down there. He might even be able to loan us some keys to get into the tunnels."

Grinning, Judy glanced at Catano. _Another point for Nick,_ she thought as the fox skimmed through his contacts.

Catano considered pointing out that they could just as easily access city records and procure the keys with their credentials and position, since the tunnels were city property. She kept quiet, however. _Let's see how far Mr. Wilde can take us,_ she mused.

She continued to watch, checking their intel and speculations against what she was able to dig up from city maintenance records. As she had expected, their insights – Nick's especially – were uncannily accurate, consistently leading to the least-frequented areas and especially those where sinkholes and the like had produced ready-made cavities in the earth which would not be on most charts. When they changed into plainclothes later and went to pick up the product, Nick's personal skills proved equally impressive as they made the purchase from the two mongooses who showed up to make the sale. He spoke very familiarly with them and clearly knew them well instead of having just found them with a search on the sly. Moreover, as if to win bonus points, he sweet-talked them down to lowering the price as the product was un-aged and the cause a worthy one.

 _He's useful,_ she thought. _Very useful._

She didn't make exceptions. She'd been an exception and knew how painful those could be. Wilde was helpful, and to her surprise she was actually somewhat pleased with him, but with his obvious back-alley know-how he could be the most troublesome crooked cop ever to wear a badge if his reformation wasn't legit.

Still, he wasn't the main objective. If he was willing to cooperate, all well and good. She might not make exceptions, but she could table a matter… for the moment, at least.

 **And I'm sorry, folks, but I'm going to cut it off here. I wanted to make this chapter go all the way to Nick's plan for questioning Stangahoof, but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting. So next time, we find out what Judy's plan is to knock out those Night Howlers. Fancy police worrying about not leaving fingerprints.**

 **Lot of questions, though. What's up with Catano and her beef about exceptions? Is she starting to trust Nick, or just stringing him along until he becomes expendable? Only time will tell.**

 **I admit to finding myself a bit torn on that aspect of this chapter, actually. I had hoped to start developing a little better standing between Catano and Nick, but recent information about police practices (and Catano's stubborn personality) hindered me. I also decided to put off some material on the matter because Hawken advised that jumping from one character's perspective to another too much could be distracting, and I wanted to focus this chapter on Judy. So stay tuned for more of Catano and Nick ahead.**

 **For those who were wondering, police departments often use seized vehicles (as in fully seized; not simply confiscated) for undercover operations and the like, so it's actually fairly plausible that a large city police department would be able to get their hands – or paws in this case – on such rides as a nondescript pickup truck suited for the job. I've also done some research on how police departments purchase supplies which are not on their usual "shopping lists," but that will probably fit better into the next chapter.**

 **And on a purely trivial note to my fellow grammar nazis, "mongooses" and "mongeese" are both recognized by Webster as plurals of mongoose – though strangely enough, only one of them is recognized by my spellcheck.**

 ** _Easter Eggs:_**

 ** _Home Alone 2: Lost in New York_**

 ** _South American History (this one is rather fishy)_**

 _Guest Reviews:_

 _ **Guest:** Indeed. Once Vanya sets her sights on a goal, she doesn't let anyone or anything get in her way. She may be small, but she's savage._

 _ **Thanash:** That's the fun of an adventure, isn't it? Follow the road and see where it goes. And on the profile matter, that's fine if you'd rather do it that way. Ideas are still welcome. Happy reading!_

 ** _Easter Egg Answers_**

 ** _Chapter Sixteen:_**

The **Looney Tunes** reference comes in **the name of Nicole's boyfriend, Willy Kai Yote (Wile E. Coyote).** Fun fact: He teaches shop class. Don't think I picked that with Wile E in mind; I just really enjoyed shop class in my school days. Another fun fact: He's a Mexican Coyote (or whatever they would call them in that world), which I picked because in the real world red wolves and Mexican coyotes can crossbreed without any problems (i.e. they don't tend to have sterile offspring like a horse and a donkey would). And since I'm on a role, I'll see how many 90s kids are paying attention. If I were picking voice actors, Willy would be voiced by Jason David Frank, and Nicole by Amy Jo Johnson (who, as it happens, is a singer in real life).

 **Nicole's reflection on stepping on one's date** is a nod to **Captain America: The First Avenger** when Steve remarked that ladies were disinclined to dance with him because he was vertically challenged.

 _ **Chapter Seventeen:** _

**Kevin's game of choice** was none other than **_Skyrim._**


End file.
